Obsession
by Purple Uranium
Summary: DISCONTINUED. Miroku x Kagome. She believed that it was nothing more than a strange phenomenon, but as the years progressed she realized that it was a curse that had changed her life forever.
1. I: Part First

**Title:** Obsession

**Author:** Purple Uranium

**Genre:** Supernatural/Romance/Action Adventure/Drama/Angst

**Pairings:** Miroku/Kagome (primary), Kagome/Inuyasha (secondary), Miroku/Sango (minor)

**Rating:** PG-13 through R

**Summary:** At first, she believed that it was nothing more than an unexplained phenomenon, but as the years progressed she realized that it was a nothing short of a curse - a curse that had changed her life forever.

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Inuyasha. I am merely borrowing the characters to throw them around a little bit. I also don't own Anne Rice's Blackwood Farm, on which this is loosely - extremely loosely - based. (The only similarity being the whole doppelganger thing.)

**Warnings:**Implied Shounen-ai. Implied Shoujo-ai.Bad language. Sexual situations/references. Gore. Minor ooc-ness.Some secondaryoc's.

If you can not handle any of these warning, then I will ask you politely not to read.

**Feedback:** Yes, in fact, it's encouraged, although flames about the above topics will be laughed at and then ignored.

**Author's Notes:** The beginning of each chapter will be written in present tense, the middle of the chapter written in past tense, and the very end will be written in present tense. I hope that's not _too_ confusing.

* * *

The wind tickles her skin.

And he whispers, _I love you._

She wants to believe him, she wants to wrap her arms around him and drown in his essence, his soul.

But she can't.

Because she knows the truth, she knows how he feels, how she feels, and it's not the truth.

But then, it's not a lie either.

She doesn't know what to believe anymore.

But as his lips descend upon hers, she knows it's what she wants, what she desires.

And she also knows it's false, that it doesn't truly exist.

But she continues to live in the dream; she continues to pretend that her dreams are a reality; that what is happening between them truly exits. She wants to love him, she wants him to love her in return only - he won't. Because he has another. And she is waiting for him. Waiting for him to come and sweep her off her feet, to come to her and make sweet love to her.

But for now she continues to pretend that he is hers, and that she is his.

For now she'll continue to pretend that the bond between them is real, that it is strong, and that it will never falter.

For now - she'll cry - the tears inevitable as he disappears, fading from her vision as the moon spills from her open window, bathing her in an ethereal glow.

He was never there, and she knows that.

But she wishes he was, and she wants him more than anything.

* * *

Her skin burned.

And the energy, it flittered around her, seeping into her pours, threatening to consume her soul.

She knew that she wouldn't let it, that it wouldn't pass her barrier, but she also knew that it could break her barrier - that if it wanted her enough it would take her, tasting every curve and contour of her body, crackling upon her lips, ghosting upon her skin until she gave in to it's desires to take her.

But she was stronger than that.

She had always been stronger than that.

Her eyes closed slowly, her lips parting as the energy crackled around her, her fingers reaching out to touch the tiny rivulets of blood that was spilling from the open wound.

She had been sloppy - in a panicked rush - as she took the life of the impure human, attempting to feast on his diminishing light.

It was what she had been taught - that their lives were unimportant, that if they killed another that they didn't deserve to live. So she had always acted upon it. Ever since she had received her gift, she had acted upon the words that her mentor had spoken to her, watching her with that same fondness in his eyes. She took the life of the wicked, feasting on their light even as she faded into the darkness - forever wishing that the shadows would consume her.

It was a natural feeling; it was a feeling that accompanied her with every feeding - the wish of death.

But she was a seedling, and she knew that it wouldn't come.

Her mentor - he cared for her in a way that she could never understand - and he was the only one that could take her life, her immortality. Just as he had been the one to give her that immortality - that unwanted ability to feed.

It was something that she hated her mentor for.

She had never wanted to be given the gift - the right to take the lives of those wicked of heart.

Ever since she had been a child, she had been told that taking another's life was wrong, that no one had the right to pass judgment on the wicked, to wish death upon another. And ever since she had been a child she had firmly believed that she hadn't the right to take the life of another, however, now she lived off the death of others - now she lived off of their impure souls and tainted thoughts. Now - it was what she had become.

Tainted.

It's ironic really, she thought bitterly as her fingers slid through the stream of blood, drinking up the remaining traces of her prey's soul.

She hated killing - she was told that she had always been too innocent for it, and yet - now it was all she lived for.

The threat of a sadistic smile caused her lips to twitch as she watched, her blue eyes glowing with satisfaction as the energy quit crackling around her, quit trying to spill into her soul. She had taken control of the impurity, instead allowing it to nurture her soul, to quell her hunger.

One death - that was all it ever took - and then she was sated.

She slid her fingers across the carpet, watching as five thin trails of blood were left on the beige fabric.

Hollow.

She felt empty - hollow.

She never wanted to kill; she never wanted to be able to feed, to be immortal.

And she hated him for that - for giving her the ability to do such things.

All she had ever wanted to was to live within her manor, chatting with her grandfather about curses and legends, helping her mother with cooking and cleaning, playing with her younger brother, and assisting the maids within her home whenever it came time to prepare for the tourists. That was all that was supposed to matter to her. She wasn't supposed to lurk in the shadows, to take the lives of the wicked and feast upon them. She wasn't supposed to be a mere killing machine that would live for years until she found the feast that would cause her soul to explode - that would turn her into a proper Seed.

That wasn't her.

Only - it was.

And she could still do all those things - but she couldn't.

Because then - then she would be afraid - afraid that she would smell the scent of the wicked, and feast upon them, only to leave them dead within their room. And something would have to be done. The authorities would have to be called, an investigation would take place and - her family didn't need that.

It was times like those, times when the season was right and the leaves turned to yellow, that she would have to hide - that she would need to disappear, so that she wouldn't make that mistake. It was the times when her hunger would overpower her - that it would control her mind and her body - it was then that she didn't need it.

Sighing loudly at her own morbid thoughts, she turned away from the dead, knowing that she no longer served a purpose there - that she was needed elsewhere.

She stepped out into the night, blinking up at the twinkling stars, unaware of how they reflected off of her blue-gray eyes, or that they were blessing her - wishing that one so young didn't have to deal with a fate as cruel as hers.

It had been six years - six indescribable years since the gift had been bestowed upon her.

She remembered it clearly and the stars - they always reminded her of it.

"Twelve years old," she whispered to no one, her hand reaching towards the heavens, as though attempting to grasp the drops of glitter that were dotted across the sky, "I was only twelve years old."

_He said he cared._

"But he doesn't, and I know that now," she said aloud, attempting to banish the unwanted thoughts.

_Please stop running._

"I - I'm not, and I don't," her heart fluttered wildly, knowing very well what was to come - what was to ensue, but fearing it nonetheless.

_The truth, you run because you're afraid of the truth._

"What is the truth? Please tell me, because I don't understand it," she had fallen to her knees, her eyes brimming with tears as she looked towards the sky, hoping to find the answer, hoping to find herself.

He has loved you ever since. 

"No," the girl said fiercely, her finger nails digging into the soft grass, attempting to hide from the oncoming bout of misery, "he has never loved me. He will never love me. Just please, tell me the truth."

_The truth is that. If you gave yourself a chance to realize, you would know._

"Please don't - please stop," she whimpered, curling into a tiny ball, hiding herself from the world.

"But I can't," came the whispered voice as a hand descended upon her shoulder, the long sharp nails sinking into her skin, " because if I do, then I'll die as well."

The girl turned, her blue eyes wide as she looked at the woman before her, her blue orbs brimmed with red, unaware of the sharp pain lancing throughout her shoulder.

Each time - she had told herself that she would be prepared, that she would know what was to come, only - she wasn't.

She knew that it was something she would always have to deal with, the sudden pain as her barriers cracked, her blood spilling past her skin as the woman dipped her fingers into the wound, attempting to drain her the soul she had just consumed.

The woman smiled sadly, falling to her knees beside the girl, her ebony hair shadowing her face, hiding her from reality.

"I've never intended to hurt you," the woman whispered, wrapping her slender fingers around the young girl's forearm. The young girl shuddered violently; her head resting against the older woman's shoulder, knowing that what was about to happen was inevitable. It was always the same. Ever since she had first fed, she had to give up part of her soul to another - someone who had chosen her just as her Mentor had chosen her.

She hated them both.

And she was certain - she was absolutely positive that her Mirror and her Mentor knew that as well.

"But you still do it," the girl whispered, her eyes closing slightly, " You still continue to take what rightfully belongs to me."

The woman stiffened suddenly, her eyes flashing as she gripped the younger girls arms, her hands growing hot as she attempted to break the barriers that had been built around her soul.

"If it belonged to you," the woman said, her voice cold and harsh, "then it would have been in your body to begin with. People are cruel. All we do is take, and no matter if the other person is willing or not, we will take to get what we want."

The girl blinked, looking up at her Mirror. "And you, what do you want?"

The Mirror frowned, her eyes narrowing as she looked at the girl, the expression on her face unreadable.

"You should already know," the Mirror answered simply, her nails digging into the tender flesh to create a new wound.

"If that's the case then - then shouldn't you," the girl trailed off, tears welling up in her eyes once more.

"I chose you for a reason."

"But you - it's not - NO!" the girl yelled, reeling back as though attempting to escape her Mirrors grasp. The Mirror let out a grunt of surprise, releasing her prey; completely unaware of what was happening.

She hadn't been expecting it. Her prey was usually so obedient, allowing her to take what she needed until she was solidified, that way - that way she would able to walk in the day, talking to the house maids as though nothing was out of the ordinary while the girl slept, her wounds healing and her soul slowly piecing back together.

"You. Aren't. Real." The girl ground out, placing a hand against the wound in her arm. The Mirror merely smiled, the air around her growing humid, crackling as her energies reached out to her, trying to break her soul without the contact.

"I've been real since as long as I can remember, and you - you've been running Kagome," the Mirror whispered, her energies crashing down on the girl and hitting her, causing her skin to split and her blood to spill.

But she didn't scream - Kagome never screamed. And it was something that the Mirror had grown accustomed to. Whenever Kagome gave up a part of herself, she merely closed her eyes and clenched her fists, allowing the pain to surge through her body, taking the aching of her nerves in stride as her chest swelled and her lungs burned. The Mirror - the Mirror always wished that she screamed, that she wouldn't hide her pain from the world - hide her self from the world, and yet there was no way to stop it.

Ever since her reflection had been twelve, she had merely given into the pain, taking it in stride as she lashed out at her, drinking and draining her Light. She would cry - always - she would cry, but she would never scream.

It was something that never ceased to amaze the Mirror, how one so young could be so strong, and yet - she didn't want to believe it.

She simply wanted to see that strength crack - to dissolve into nothingness as she drank Kagome's Light, attempting to replenish her own life.

The Mirror's eyes narrowed as she looked at the now bleeding girl, ignoring the tears rolling out of her eyes, and how her mouth moved soundlessly, attempting to speak, only failing to do so.

"Do not deny me," the Mirror whispered, dropping to her knees and placing a slender finger into the pool of blood.

Kagome whimpered, her voice cracked and hoarse as she looked towards her Mirror, her eyes narrowed in hatred.

She had always wanted to tell her.

She had always wanted to let her know that she hated her - that she wanted nothing more to do with her except - her Mirror was a part of her, she had grown up with her since she was a child. And she didn't want to let go of the friendship that had built between them despite the troubles - the pain that always lingered deep within.

And then it lanced through her, that same sharp pain as her barriers shattered, and her soul began to flow from her body, illuminating the air in a soft gray glow.

The Mirror smirked, sifting through the purity that still rested within her reflection's soul, searching for that impurity - trying to feed off of it.

"No matter what you do," the Mirror stated, her lips descending upon her reflections brow, " you will always give me part of you."

And Kagome tried to back away, to rid herself of the fond gesture and yet - she didn't want to.

The Mirror - she was right. No matter what she did the Mirror was always right.

And as the seconds became minutes, as her soul continued to float around her, that same impurity that she had fed on only moment before started to disappear, the Mirror's fading image become more and more solidified, her powers more pronounced as the impurity filled her soul, keeping her sated.

"You'll always share with me," the Mirror whispered, her fingers sliding through Kagome's blood, " always and forever."

"I. Hate. You." Kagome ground out, curling into a little ball as the gray diminished into nothingness, her soul flowing through her body once more.

"Just as much as you hate him?" The Mirror asked, her voice slightly mocking.

"Yes," Kagome answered immediately, tilting her head to look up to her Mirror, " I hate him more than anything."

The Mirror merely smiled, shaking her head slowly. "But he is fond of you, just as I am fond of you. Although, his love for you is different than mine, he still cares for you deeply."

"No," Kagome whimpered, the tears coming to her eyes quickly, " just stop lying to me! I don't - I don't want to hear anymore!"

"Then stop running from what's right in front of you," The Mirror whispered, her body disappearing into nothingness.

And Kagome continued to lie there, her body aching and cold, her blood pooling around her as her wounds started to heal slowly, along with her barriers and her soul. She couldn't believe her Mirror, the entity that she hated so completely. And yet - there was still that bond of friendship between them, the bond of complete understanding. Her Mirror knew her too well and - and if she allowed her to feed off of her any longer, she would know everything.

But she already knows my fears, Kagome thought her arms wrapping around her stomach, she already knows what I am truly afraid of.

Kagome knew - she couldn't have that.

There would have to be something - some way that Kagome would be able to counter it, counter the heartache and the pain. Her Mirror was supposed to be her best friend and yet she was her worst enemy as well.

_'He has loved you ever since.'_

Kagome shivered involuntarily as those words whispered through her mind, the chilled air causing goose bumps to rise upon her skin.

Perhaps - perhaps this time her Mirror was right, and if he did care about her like her Mirror said she did then - then she would simply have to make due.

"But I hate him," Kagome whispered to herself, closing her eyes tightly as tears streamed down her face, " and he's ignored me for all these years. Ever since my second feed it's like - he's forgotten about me. And - no - I can't go to him. He wouldn't know - he wouldn't care."

But, Kagome thought rolling onto her back so that she could look up at the stars, she did say that - that he loved me.

Kagome couldn't help but to laugh bitterly.

"It's seems I have no choice - no choice at all."

The wind caressed her skin, and Kagome's eyes slid closed, leaving her shattered soul to heal.

* * *

"Inuyasha," the woman whispered, her hand sliding through his silver white hair as he stood there, watching her with a stony expression.

"What?" He asked, his voice low and gruff, his amber eyes failing to show his emotions.

"They said - they said that it has to stop. Otherwise - he wants it to stop," the woman said, her speech faltering. Inuyasha merely regarded her levelly before shrugging his shoulders, uncaring of the situation.

"I don't give a flying fuck. She stopped coming to me, I can't do much about that now can I?" He asked, twirling the ends of his hair around one clawed finger. The woman merely frowned, a line forming between her brows as she stepped away from him, instinctively crossing her arms over her chest.

"So you're just going to let it happen?"

Inuyasha glanced her, shrugging his shoulders indifferently.

"Need I remind you, she's _your_ seedling. You need to take the initiative to protect her otherwise - Wind doesn't want to have to deal with it. You know that right?" The woman asked, her eyes narrowing as she watched the impassive hanyou gaze up at the stars, his body language revealing nothing about what he was thinking.

"She's not mine," he replied after a moment of silence, his voice soft and calm, " she hasn't been mine since before I can remember."

The woman merely scoffed, throwing her arms into the air.

"Of course she's yours Inuyasha. You love her right? You made the claim - you made her what she is now. So yeah - she's your seedling, and she wouldn't be what she is if you didn't love her. Now get up and go do something about it before Wind comes down here!"

"It's not that fucking easy!" Inuyasha yelled suddenly, turning raging amber eyes towards the woman.

But the woman merely stared at him, not frightened by his actions, almost as though she had been expecting this temper from him.

"Just because _you're_ afraid of facing your demons, doesn't mean she needs to be hurt because of it. Do something now, or else Wind will make sure that you will be stuck in Purgatory for the rest of eternity."

"Wind can do whatever the hell he pleases, I am not going to see her. If she wants my help, she'll come to me. It's that simple," Inuyasha retorted, folding his arms over his chest and turning his eyes back to the stars.

"You're a prick, Inuyasha. Never in my life - Gods - why are you so afraid of a simple girl?"

"She hates me. End of story. Go away, or I'll kill you," Inuyasha knew it was an empty threat, one that would never be able to be fulfilled, but he wanted to be left alone - he didn't want to have to deal with the tainted memories anymore.

He had taken an innocent - a child - and now, no matter how strongly he felt for her, she hated him with all of her being. She despised the gift that had been bestowed upon her, and she had shown her hate for the gift right after her second feed - Inuyasha sighed loudly, slumping back against a giant fur tree. He shouldn't have to deal with this; it was as simple as that. His seedling didn't like being around him, and he wasn't going to force that on her. Whether or not Wind descended upon him - it didn't matter. He would simply tell the Entity that his seedling despised him - wished him to hell and back - and that was the only reason why he failed to help her.

He loved her - it was true - he loved her more than anything yet. Inuyasha growled, turning back towards his companion, his expression weary.

"You know as well as I do that I can't do anything unless she really wants me to," Inuyasha murmured, shifting so the woman could take her seat beside him.

"Of course, but that doesn't mean that you still can't watch over her. If nothing, you can get Wind to help. After all, he is just as fond of the girl as you are."

"Don't tell me," Inuyasha started bitterly, giving the woman a slanted glare, "that he has been watching over her as well?"

The woman merely laughed, shaking her head slowly.

"Wind has his own problems. It's not easy keeping the underworld under wraps after all," the woman replied, shaking her finger in a condescending way.

"Of course," Inuyasha started, rolling his eyes, "but then why does he care so much?"

The woman merely smiled, leaning over to place a kiss on Inuyasha's cheek.

"For the same reason you do."

And then, the woman disappeared into nothingness, her immortal soul swimming through the shadows once more.

* * *

The lights danced over the mist slowly, the child's eyes bright as he took in the scene in front of him.

The male - he had reached his hand out - tracing the line of her jaw as she stared at him, her eyes dull and gray.

It was obvious that she felt no desire to be near him, that she felt no desire to be touched by him - and yet she had swallowed her pride, allowing the Seed to touch her so lovingly - it was painful for the child to watch. Normally he wouldn't care - he would simply fly by them, attempting to either scare them or ignore them, for fear of the beating his master would give him and yet - they were true Shadows - they fed off the souls of others, killing those who were impure so that they could swim into the underworld and live in an eternal hell.

The child shivered slightly, his dancing lights dimming as he moved through the swamp, attempting to get a closer look.

The girl was talking now, tears streaming down her face and the male - his hands were clenching and unclenching, blood dripping from the palms of his hand.

The child grinned, floating above the mist, hoping to hear past the barriers.

" - she keeps coming," the girl whispered, turning away from the boy.

"Well, I don't suppose there is much I can do about it except watch," the male tried to reply nonchalantly, only his voice came out extremely strained.

The child noticed that the girl gave the male an odd expression before shrugging, her arms folding over her chest defiantly.

"Then I'll guess you have to watch while she practically diminishes my life and shatters my soul, huh?" The girl asked, her voice sarcastic and cold. The boy frowned, his eyes narrowing dangerously as his hand latched out to grab onto her shoulder, his claws digging into her shoulder slightly.

"I'm not going to let you fucking die! You're too -" But the girl merely swatted his hand away, a noticeable fire burning within her eyes.

"Don't. I don't feel up to hearing your lies anymore. My Mirror - she says the same damned thing and I hate every single second of it. So don't. You. Dare."

The child noticed, with the utmost glee, that the girl was forcing those words passed her lips - that she truly did hate the male standing in front of her and - her Mirror. She had spoken about a Mirror, which could only mean that she had been targeted.

The child slid back into the mist, his lights dancing merrily around him at the information.

A Mentor was having problems with his seedling.

And his Master - his master would simply love to hear that the world of the Shadows was unstable.

Barely able to contain his grin, the child floated away, his lights trying furiously to keep up with him as he disappeared into the silver mist.

* * *

Inuyasha's head whipped around, his eyes narrowing as he gazed into the mist, a line forming between his brows.

His skin had tingled then, that same burning sensation prickling his barriers whenever something unwanted stirred around him. Instinctively, he wrapped his hand around his seedling's wrist, pulling her close to him as his eyes darted around the grove of trees, attempting to pierce through the thick mist that hung over the swamp water.

His seedling merely huffed indignantly, attempting to escape his grasp, but he merely hooked his arm around her shoulders, hugging her to his body.

"Stay still," he growled," something's out there."

His seedling immediately stilled, blinking up at him before turning towards the swamp, her blue eyes wide with wonder.

A terse moment of silence passed, the wind caressed their skin gently, and Inuyasha shoved his seedling away from him roughly. He wouldn't force her to touch him, regardless of how deeply he cared for her.

"So," Kagome started awkwardly, turning towards her Mentor, " what happens if you can't stop it?"

Inuyasha shrugged, leaning against a tree as he gazed out into the darkened swamp, as though he might be able to find the source of their disturbance. " Wind takes care of it," he answered gruffly, picking at a piece of bark on the dying tree.

Kagome's eyes widened perceptibly, her mouth opening and closing silently, before Inuyasha shot her an irritated look.

"Do you really think that -"

"Yes," Inuyasha said through gritted teeth, turning back towards the swamp, "it's been rumored that he's - fond of you."

Inuyasha hated admitting this to his seedling - he hated letting her know that Wind was especially interested in her and yet - it was the only justified reason for why he would be looking so hard at Kagome. There were plenty of other Shadows who had Mirrors that lurked in the Shadows, waiting until they fed to shatter their soul and yet - Inuyasha sighed, turning to face Kagome, his amber eyes shimmering with an unknown emotion.

"I - I really don't," Inuyasha stopped then, frowning at the questionable look that Kagome shot his way, " I don't think that it would be a good idea if you fed tonight. At least on another tainted soul," he explained quickly at her baffled expression.

"Then, how will I survive the day?" Kagome asked slowly, unsure of whether or not she had heard her Mentor correctly.

"You can use my soul for tonight. Your Mirror will have to try to get passed my barrier, and even though part of me will be in you - I will still be able to protect my soul and she can't feed off of it."

Kagome frowned, her brows furrowing as she thought about his offer, unsure of whether or not she should believe him.

Because - whenever she fed off of an impure person, they had never been able to protect their souls, and her Mirror took it regardless of what barriers she might have managed to put up, but then - her Mentor was only giving her enough to survive the day, and that was all she truly needed. Her Mirror wouldn't be able to wander the manor then, and she, too, would be forced to rest but then -

Her Mentor would be up through the day, working to protect the piece of him that had been deposited into her soul.

And he would be even weaker the next night.

And if that were the case then - how would he protect her from her Mirror the next night?

"Wench," Inuyasha said unusually fondly, tugging on her hair gently, " remember you came to me. My job as a Mentor is to fucking protect you, so don't doubt me. I'm stronger than you, just remember that."

Kagome nodded slowly, swatting at his hand before fisting her hands at her hips, glaring at him levelly.

"Very well. What has to be done?"

A moment of silence passed, and Inuyasha merely shifted uncomfortably, giving her an embarrassed look before his hand snaked out and hooked around the back of her neck, pulling her towards him.

Kagome barely had time to register what was happening before his lips descended upon hers, and their souls connected.

* * *

His fingers slide through her hair, the moon reflecting on hi eyes as he watches her, his body pressed to hers.

He doesn't lie anymore - he doesn't whisper those sweet nothings.

And for once, she is content - content to merely rest within his arms - to feel his warmth melding in with hers.

And she smiles, her blue eyes shining bright, and her heart fluttering in her chest.

She knows he can feel it, the pitter-patter of heart as he gazes at her, mischief dancing in those beautiful dark orbs.

_Please stay,_ she whispers, her fingers sliding down his arms, pulling him closer to her.

_I can't make any promises,_ he responds, his lips dancing along her jaw.

_I didn't ask you to, _she murmurs and then - then she is whisked away in a whirl of emotions as he pushes into her, his eyes fluttering closed in ecstasy.

It's her dream, and he is beautiful.

She doesn't ever want it to end.

* * *

(End Chapter One) 


	2. II: Part Second

**A/N:** I know it's been a while since I updated this story, and I apologize for it. Unfortunately, despite being able to get it out quicker, I was being lazy and I didn't, so… : -p. But hopefully, you are able to enjoy this chapter as much as the last, and hopefully, I can get the next chapter out a whole lot faster than this one. Although, I am usually really sporadic with updates, so no promises. But, you'll enjoy this chapter, yes? Good. ^_^

**Disclaimer: **The characters of Inuyasha belong to Rumiko Takahashi, and I don't own any of them. I also do not own Blackwood Farm by Anne Rice, on which this is loosely – extremely loosely – based. (The only real similarities being the whole Doppelganger deal.)

.

.

.

.

.

.

The air hits her skin, stinging it – burning it.

And the blood, it pools around her, flowing languidly from the thick disgusting gashes.

He looks at her, his eyes somewhat sympathetic, but remains unmoving – watching as the blood continued to rise – continued to spark with her Light.

Her Mentor is near, an eyebrow raised in question, and yet, he too doesn't move, his long claws digging into the flesh of his leg.

She smiles bitterly.

They both say that they care, but she doesn't believe them. 

They don't care enough.

Her blood flows faster, soaking into the thin nightgown that was once white, staining it a dark crimson.

If she had been hunting – it would have beautiful. But the pain coursing through her, the pain that they were causing her to feel, it cut deep within her, pressing at her heart – drowning her will. 

They don't care enough.

They claim to love her, but they are just words of respite, they just attempt to appease her soul. 

She doesn't need it – she doesn't want it.

She wants the truth, but whenever she asks they look at her strangely and her Mentor – he laughs, shaking his head slightly.

She cares for them, and yet –

She hates them both.

Her heart stings from the loss.

.

.

.

.

Her world shattered.

And her fingers – they gripped his clothing tightly, the tears streaming down her face.

This was not how she wanted it to be, it wasn't supposed to be painful. She had thought that he would go about it gently, slowly knitting her world back together, but once again he decided to hurt her – to cause her unwanted pain.

It had happened before – when he had first tasted her Light, the very substance that allowed her to live – he had caused the pain to shoot throughout her body, drowning her in agony. She could still remember the thick red blood dripping from the wounds on her arms – the vein in her neck. She could still remember resting limply on the floor, her entire body shaking with the change that was overcoming her – she could still remember her Mentor standing above her, worry lines creasing his brows, as he kneeled closer and closer to her, one trembling hand reaching out to touch her wounds. 

She could remember it all.

And – and ever since that day, she had wished for nothing more than her death, to not feel the pain any longer. 

She hadn't fed at first.

It was nothing more than a dream – a pigment of her imagination. He wouldn't be coming back, he would leave her be.

But he didn't.

He came back, days after the pain, his amber eyes penetrating her very soul.

_"You aren't feeding," he whispered harshly, gripping her shoulders tightly._

He was always taller than her, she mused, falling onto the ground in a crumpled heap, her body shaking with dry sobs.

_"I don't see the purpose," she replied, jerking away from him, "You are nothing but a dream."_

His energy was lacing through her, attempting to heal all the damage that her Mirror had bestowed upon her – helping to reinforce her barriers.

_"I'm not some fucking dream," he bit back angrily, crouching down in front of her as she languidly combed the hair of one of her dolls, "I'm a Shadow, I'm real."_

Her Mentor crouched down next to her, placing a comforting hand on her forehead, taking note of her dilated pupils, how cold and clammy her skin had become.

_"Mommy told me that Shadows don't exist. They are just stories – the kind that people make up because they have over active imaginations." She retorted, gently placing her doll on her bed._

"Kagome," Inuyasha murmured, running his fingers through her hair, "stop trying to fight it."

_"Stories?" He asked slowly, watching the girl incredulously._

Kagome trembled, goose bumps forming on her skin as his soul raced through her body, mending and strengthening her shattering light. 

_"Just like the lights in the swamp. They aren't real," the little girl responded, giving him a determined look, "_You_ aren't real."_

Inuyasha's fingers intertwined with her own, his golden eyes clouding over in distress. The attachment of his soul – it was supposed to help her. It wasn't supposed to have this type of affect on the teenage girl.

_"Your mother lied to you," he hissed coldly, his hand snaking out to wrap around her tiny bicep, "Shadows are real."_

Wounds appeared on her skin, the tiny lacerations stinging as the icy wind hit them, causing thin trails of blood to slide down her arms. Inuyasha's eyes widened in realization; his deft fingers freezing in her hair. Kagome gave a tiny yelp – the lacerations widening as Inuyasha's energy crackled in the small pools of blood – effectively shattering everything he had attempted to mend.

_"No," the girl sounded, trying to pull away from him, " mommy would never lie to me! You're the liar!"_

"Fuck!" Inuyasha hissed, pulling away from the bleeding girl, watching as the tears poured down her face, her mouth opening and closing in an attempt to form a coherent sentence. But Inuyasha knew what was wrong – he didn't need to hear her say it. His eyes darted around the clearing, attempting to find the source of her pain – attempting to quell the tightening of his chest, but it was no use. 

_"You fucking brat," he spat bitterly, digging his claws into her skin as she squealed in pain, "if I wasn't real, then why the hell am I causing you pain?"_

And then – it stopped.

The tears continued to pour down her face, her throat tight as her body shook, the air still prodding at the wounds, causing them to sting in an almost bitter resentment. She could feel her Mentor coming closer to her, and she curled into a protective ball, hating him for all the pain that he had caused her. She didn't want him to touch her – she didn't want to look at him ever again. Her entire body ached, her soul and her barriers were once again shattered and her lips – they continued to burn with the intensity of his kiss. 

The only kiss she had ever been given outside of her dreams.

She hated him even more.

_"I – I don't know!"_

"Kagome?" Inuyasha asked quietly, gently placing a hand against her forehead. 

She jerked away, her body protesting the movements, but trying to relay the message that she – she hated him. She hated him more than anything. She had gone to him, hoping that there would be someway to get rid of the pain – but he had only caused her more.

_"I'm real," he murmured menacingly, bringing his bloodied fingers to his lips, "and you need to feed."_

"No," Kagome whispered, fixing her Mentor with a glare, "don't touch me."

_"Feed?"_

"Who did it?" Inuyasha asked, kneeling down next to her, ignoring the stab of pain that racked through his body. Kagome moved away from him, wincing as the lacerations spilled more blood, but gave him a steady gaze – her face devoid of emotion, and yet her eyes expressing everything.

_"Kill."_

"You did," Kagome retorted angrily, her fingers digging into the moist earth beneath her. Inuyasha growled, his amber eyes narrowing dangerously before he stood up, his arms crossing over his chest.

_"I don't want to kill," the girl whispered as he scooped her into his arms, nuzzling the top of her head gently._

"Oh fuck this!" Inuyasha growled, slamming his fist into a near by tree, "I just tried to help you and all you could do – all you fucking can do – you ungrateful bitch!"

_"You have no other choice."_

"I hate you!" Kagome screamed, jumping to her feet despite her injuries, " I never asked for any of this! You – it was all you and your indecisiveness!"

Inuyasha smirked bitterly, shaking his head wearily. Kagome continued to stand, her fists clenched at her sides, her blue eyes burning with fury. Absently, Inuyasha twirled the end of his silvery locks around his fingers, his amber eyes flecked with red.

"You were innocent," he replied with a nonchalant shrug of his shoulders, "Wind punishes those who kill the innocent. And Wind," Inuyasha smirked devilishly, falling against a tree, "he will make your punishment extremely pleasurable yet painful at the same time. I don't want to fucking deal with that," Inuyasha looked at Kagome, all form of malice dissipating from both his voice and his expression, " Besides, I have already chosen."

Kagome's body went numb.

Inuyasha watched her impassively, smirking as tears began to flow from her eyes once more.

"You – you can't possibly care," Kagome whispered, her eyes lowering to the floor. 

Inuyasha merely shrugged, his eyes lingering on Kagome's bloody form. "More than you know," came his almost silent reply.

"But – why?"

Inuyasha remained silent, turning his eyes towards the midnight blue sky, shivering as the icy wind caused goose bumps to rise on his ivory skin. He could feel Kagome's eyes burning into him once more, filled with anger, resentment, and disbelief.

"It's obvious I didn't give you enough of my soul to protect you from your Mirror," Inuyasha replied evasively, "I'm gonna have to get some outside help."

Kagome harrumphed, her eyes narrowing dangerously.

"You're avoiding the question," she retorted, stepping into his line of vision.

"You'd have to be pretty fucking stupid not to know the reason," Inuyasha replied before turning away from her, "go home, you need to rest."

Kagome merely nodded, holding back the tears that threatened to spill from her eyes as he disappeared.

_Why? Why do you care so much?_

.

.

.

.

The woman trembled, her eyes cast downwards as he fixated that cold amused smile at her.

He was always good that – looking amiable despite the cold hatred that was swelling within him. It was what drew her to him; it was what had made him so completely intriguing to begin with. But now – now that she truly knew what he was like – now that she truly knew most of the thoughts that ran through his mind, she could not help but hate him.

She could not help but hate him because he was so powerful – because he was able to take away everything that she loved with a flick of his wrist.

And she knew – she knew that she should not have become attached. She knew that she not have allowed her childish fantasies to break past her barriers only to consume her heart. 

She hated him for it.

Hated him for making her so completely weak – and yet – she loved him.

She couldn't help but love him.

Because he was simply so kind – so gentle.

When she felt him pressed against her body, both of them slick and wet, she couldn't help the shiver of ecstasy as he touched her, as his lips danced across her jaw. She couldn't help but love him as his hands stroked her body, bringing her closer and closer to her release – causing her toes to curl and tears to fall from her eyes.  

She couldn't help but love him as he whispered to her, his voice low and seductive, his breath tickling her skin.

Because he treated her with respect – because he treated her as his equal.

And she loved him for that.

But now – now he was simply so cold – distrusting, and he let her know.

He let her know that he wanted her no longer – that he was tired and angered.

Now he didn't touch her, he didn't look at her. Now his voice was harsh and cold, filled with malice and scorn. Now he dreamed of her death – of tasting her blood on his tongue – of watching as crimson rivulets dripped from his fingers.

And now, she hated him.

Now, she couldn't bear to look at him.

Because it hurt – because he didn't want her any longer.

Because he had another. One that could please him more – one that would allow his heart of ice to settle upon her – to drown her in his lust and his sorrow. And she hated him for it. Because he had promised that she was the only one. Because he had promised that he would want her – only touch her and love her. And she wanted to feel that touch once more – she wanted to be able to look into his burning crimson eyes and know that he saw only her and her alone. 

But he didn't.

And she knew that.

And as she looked up at him, his eyes pinning her in place, burning through her soul with such power – it froze her heart, and reminded her of how much she truly hated him.

It reminded her of how much she wanted to see him covered in crimson – his lungs burning and his eyes turning glassy.

But it wouldn't work that way. 

And she knew.

"_Daughter,_" he whispered maliciously, striding towards her, his black hair cascading all around her.

"Master," she bowed, her hands clenched into fists at her side.

"Rise," he responded in a cold pleased voice, and she could feel his breath on her neck, heat radiating from his body.

And she did, her russet eyes immediately seeking his dark, cold expression.

But then, his hands were curling around her neck, drawing her closer, hate marring his expression – hate for her. Hate for the one he once loved.

"You know," was all he said, and at first, she wanted to tell him. But she also wanted to lie to him. She wanted to tell him that no, she didn't know – she had no idea what was going on. But as his eyes bore into hers, she knew that she wouldn't be able to. Because he would see it in her eyes – he would hear it in her voice. And she couldn't lie to him. Because as much as she hated him – she loved him as well. 

"I do."

"And yet, you will not tell me," he responded, a wicked smile spreading across his face, his eyes twinkling with a wicked amusement.

"No," she whispered, feeling his heat settling around her – feeling her lungs burning and her eyes watering. 

She could see it settling around them; she could see him tainting the darkness, pulling them both into it.

"But I can tell," he whispered suddenly, his lips dancing across her jaw, "it has been broken."

"Yes," she whispered, tears springing to her eyes, "it has been broken. But – but a sprite was there Master. A sprite saw what had happened, and he has gone to tell his master."

"Most unfortunate for you," he drawled, drawing back slightly.

A deafening silence reigned between them, her fear spiking inside of her, causing her chest to clench painfully and her heart to ache.

And suddenly, her scream ripped through the air, the darkness wavering slightly.

Her lungs were burning, poison pricking at her skin – tearing it, causing it to blister and bleed. And she could taste the bile on her tongue, causing her stomach to lurch painfully – her chest throbbing as pain rocketed through her body, pinching and pulling on her nerves, the Light slowly draining for her body. 

All she could think of as tears sprung to her eyes, was that she wanted more – was that she needed to see her blood spilling across the floor – that she needed to fill her head with more doubts. Because it was what pleased him – it was what caused him to come to her – to take her in his arms once more and give her what she craved. What she _desired._

And as she clutched at her chest, attempting to stop the blood – attempting to close the wounds as he slowly drained the Light from her body, she knew that she could not fail him. That she could not disappoint him. 

Because she wanted him.

Because she loved him.

And as much as he had corrupted her heart – as much as he had tainted her mind, she knew that it could be no other way.

But as he leaned down over her, his ebony hair cascading over his shoulders – the moon illuminating his ivory skin, her heart wept.

Because she hated him.

"Break her," he whispered cruelly, "wound her, make her _bleed._"

"_Ma-master?_" Tentatively, almost as though she were afraid, she reached a hand towards him, tears staining her eyes as a thick dark red blood dripped from her fingertips, splattering against the ground.

"I want to hear her _scream_."

"Bu-but what about… Wind?"

"He will do his best to protect her," he replied calmly, his fingers sliding through her blood, "but then he will forget."

"And the _Daughter_?"

Her master merely smiled, energy crackling around them as he brought his fingers to his lips, her blood sweet on his tongue.

"Shadows," he whispered, pressing his lips to her forehead, "now make her bleed, _Daughter._ Make her come to me."

And she would.

Because she had no other choice.

Because she loved him.

She would feed off her light – she would consume it until there was nothing left. She would watch her as she broke – as tears spilled from her eyes – as she whimpered in pain as her blood flowed from her body. She would consume _everything._

She would make her master proud.

She would make her master want her once more.

"Good girl," he whispered as poison settled around them, causing her chest to clench painfully.

And then, he pressed a kiss to her temple, her name nothing more than a gentle whisper of the wind as he disappeared – allowing the darkness to consume him once more.

But she would treasure it always.

Because he said it with such conviction – such trust.

It was the sweetest touch he had ever given her.

And as she slowly faded into unconsciousness she knew that it would remain forever in her mind, guiding her through the darkness, keeping her from death.

She couldn't help but love him for it.

.

.

.

.

"_Daughter._"

Bright crimson eyes regarded her carefully, before the woman nodded, feather's dancing around her carefully – causing the woman to be instantly on guard.

"_Witch,_" the woman retorted snidely, smiling as the woman tensed, her hands clenching into fists at her side.

"I preferred to be called _Sango."_

"Very well," she drawled, smirking in arrogance at the scowl that passed over the other woman's face, "I shall call you Sango."

"But what about you? Surely you do not wish to be called Daughter all the time."

"It is appropriate," she responded, growling as one of her feathers brushed against Sango's face. 

"I need to speak to Wind."

"And why would brother want to speak to a lowly witch such as yourself?" the Daughter asked, her eyes twinkling in amusement.

And for the briefest moment, Sango allowed a surge of anger to take over her, before settling down quickly, folding her arms over her chest as the Daughter's feathers danced around her – tickling her skin in amusement.

"It is in regards to Inuyasha and his Seedling, Higurashi Kagome," Sango spoke, distantly aware of the fact that the feather's picked up their pace – that they were now scratching her skin – the tips becoming harder, sharper.

"And what is the news, Sango?" the Daughter asked as she reclined in her seat, her fingers moving deftly over the stone in front of her – dipping into every crevice – sliding over every jagged edge. And Sango could see the tips of her fingers tearing – blood splattering against the uneven surface.

Sango was disgusted.

But at the same time, she was amused.

"I believe, " Sango started, doing her best to ignore the sharp stabs of pain that rocketed through her body as the Daughter's feathers sliced her skin, attempting to taste her thick coppery blood, "that this business is between Wind and I."

The Daughter glared.

And her feathers – her feathers danced around her faster – their ends becoming sharper, the wind becoming colder and harsher, and more blood splattered to the ground, staining the dark earthen floor a crimson red.

"I would speak if I were you," the Daughter whispered maliciously, her bleeding fingers hovering over the stone.

"And I would stop if I were you," Sango retorted, smiling in amusement as her skin began to heal – her blood crackling with energy.

"You know as well as I do," the Daughter growled, her hands curling into fists, "that you are _forbidden_ from using your magic here. If a single incantation even slips past those pretty little lips of yours, I won't hesitate to kill you."

"And yet, when Wind finds out that his precious little sister is refusing to let his servant speak to him, he will kill _you._"

"Be that as it may," the Daughter started, her bloodied fingers descending upon the stone once more, "I am still his sister, and everything must be cleared through me. And I will not allow some little witch to undermine my authority."

Sango smirked.

"But you have me mistaken, _Daughter._ I do not mean to undermine you, I simply wish to _do my job._"

"And that must start by letting me do mine."

Silence reigned over them briefly, crimson staring harshly into chocolate, the wind cold and icy around them, the crackling of blood illuminating their pale skin – flowing blood staining the earth – painting it a beautiful crimson. 

And then, the Daughter's hands were dancing over the jagged stone again, the corners of her mouth quirking upwards in amusement as it slowly started to glow, illuminating the cold dark room. And for a second, the witch was able to see everything in the room – the moss covered stonewalls, the skeletons, the shadows dancing about, the _death_. She could see it all, but she would not allow it to frighten her. She would not allow it descend upon her heart, freezing it in place.

Distantly, she could feel the ice blanketing the room, she could feel the feathers stop dancing across her skin – and she knew.

She knew that he had heard – that he had listened to her call – that he had come to humor her.

And then she could feel his warmth dancing across her skin – she could feel his lips pressing to her temples – she could taste his blood on her tongue.

Then the sweet pressure of his lips was gone – the warmth of his body was dissipating, and she could see the Daughter bowing, her feathers positioned behind her, trembling with fright.

She could see his blue eyes glittering from the light of the stone, the small, amused smile on his face.

"You may rise, sister," he said kindly, smiling as she looked at him, her crimson eyes showing her annoyance.

"Now, Sango, what it is that you have come to tell me?"

"She has news, brother," the Daughter said quickly, bowing as her brother shot her a disapproving look.

"News?"

"Yes, Wind," Sango replied with a curt bow, "News of Inuyasha and his Seedling – "

"Higurashi Kagome?" Wind asked curiously, an eyebrow arching in mild amusement, "I am quite… familiar with her, Sango."

Sango regarded Wind carefully, a scowl on her face as her eyes narrowed, and behind him, she could see the Daughter vibrating with slight anger, her tiny white feathers spinning furiously around her body.

"Familiar?"

"He's been visiting her in her dreams," the Daughter spat, her feathers quivering dangerously.

Wind turned, his fists clenched together tightly, as he leveled his sister with a glare, silently daring her to speak against him again.

"I would ask you to hold your tongue, _Kagura._"

"You ungrateful bastard," Kagura growled, shaking with rage, "it's not my fault that you're slipping into the dreams of a _whore!_"

And suddenly, she was flung back against the way, her feathers frozen in the air as Wind snapped his fingers. 

And his shadows were surrounding him, caressing him gently as his sister glared at him harshly, her feathers falling to the ground in a heap.

"I suggest you learn to be more respectful, Kagura."

"_Daughter._ You shall call me Daughter," Kagura growled before her feathers surrounded her, blocking her from sight. 

Sango couldn't help but smirk vindictively, wincing in pain as one, single, solitary feather sliced through her skin, reminding her of who she served – of who she obeyed. And Sango couldn't help but hate her for it – hate herself for not being able to be stronger – to have obtained her powers at an earlier age.

But Wind had protected her from it.

Wind had wanted her to stay innocent – to allow her to grow into a beautiful young woman before giving her tainted powers. And for that, she was slightly grateful. But she knew that as long as she remained a lowly witch, Kagura would forever smite her, she would forever remind her that she was weaker – unable to lead in the way that she wanted to.

She resented Wind for it.

"How is she?" Wind asked, his voice suddenly soft, snapping Sango out of her reverie.

"She is," Sango hesitated, attempting to find the right words, but failing miserably, "I'm not sure how to explain it."

"Start from the beginning," Wind suggested, his eyes darkening slightly.

"Inuyasha is jealous," Sango replied, watching curiously as Wind sat in front of the stone, his fingers moving across the jagged surface with expert precision. However, unlike his sister, Sango noticed that he didn't tear his skin – that he didn't bleed.

"Of that, I am aware," he said, his eyes becoming half-lidded, "but it is the price he must pay for tainting an innocent. Surely you are aware of the fact that he has already been punished, yes?"

"Yeah," Sango said, suddenly uncomfortable, "I have spoken to him on many occasions in fact. And…"

"And?"

"Higurashi Kagome hates him."

"Sango," Wind started, sounding almost exasperated, "I have summoned you hear to bring me news, not to speak to me of the things that I am already aware of."

"Very well," Sango replied, looking oddly disappointed, "but you told me to start from the beginning."

Wind arched an eyebrow in question.

"_Fine,_" Sango growled, understanding the simple gesture, "Her Mirror is leaving her weak and injured. Every time she attempts to feed, her Mirror shows up moments later, and drains the Light from her – making her weak and unable to function. She suffers from blood loss, and spends most days in her room sleeping – attempting to regenerate her broken barriers."

"And has Inuyasha done anything to prevent this?" Wind asked, his fingers freezing over the glowing stone.

"Yes," Sango started, smiling as she saw Wind open his mouth to speak, "_but_ it happened only after I spoke to him and told him that you would come and deal with everything _you're_ way, and he was not in fact happy with that."

"So he did in fact go to help his Seedling?"

"Yeah," Sango replied almost dejectedly, "but when he tried to join their souls to help strengthen her barrier, her Mirror managed to break the connection – she melted into Higurashi's body without her Mentor being able to notice and broke the connection."

"So you're saying?"

"Yeah," Sango said stiffly, her chest clenching painfully, "Kagome is now unbound."

Wind smiled calmly.

"Good."

And then, they both disappeared into the darkness, the luminescent glow of the stone fading into nothingness.

.

.

.

.

He touches her slowly – gently.

And for once, she is happy.

She is happy because he has shown that he cares – that he wants her.

And for the briefest second, she can tell that he is happy too.

But then, she sees him frown, and his hands wrap around her waist, drawing her near – holding her close to him.

And she can taste his fear – she can see his doubts.

_'Don't leave,'_ he whispers, as he runs his fingers through her hair, his blue eyes sparkling oddly.

And she smiles, because she understands.

Because she doesn't want to be hurt again.

_'I won't,'_ she replies, clutching his arms tightly.

But he can tell she can't keep her promise – that she won't be able to fulfill it.

Because both of them lie.

Both of them are afraid.

But it is his dream, and she is beautiful.

She is an _illusion._

But he doesn't care.

Because it only makes him crave her more.

And he'll have her.

His Chosen.

His Innocent.

His _Kagome._


	3. III: Part Third

**A/N:** Collecting pennies are fun. Collecting pennies and nickels is even better. But, collecting pennies, nickels, and dimes and placing them in different color-coded containers is the _BEST._ Enjoy.

**Disclaimer: **The characters of Inuyasha belong to Rumiko Takahashi, and I don't own any of them. I also do not own Blackwood Farm by Anne Rice, on which this is loosely – extremely loosely – based. (The only real similarities being the whole Doppelganger deal.)

**Warnings: **People drinking other people's blood. Slightly metallic and coppery tasting, but if they want the blood, they can _have_ it. Also, there are smooches. Of the nice heated variety where there is saliva and bodies pressing against bodies. __

.

.

.

.

.

.

She is tired.

She is weak.

She has _fears._

And she is afraid as the darkness curls around her – freezing her – causing beautiful tears to spring to her eyes.

And yet, she smiles, because she knows that it will get better. She knows that she won't be afraid forever.

Because she has _strength_.

And she knows that her strength will never fail her.

And as he curls around her, burying his head in her shoulder, she can't help but hum in appreciation.

Because he is her strength.

Because he will chase away all of her fears.

Because he _is_ her fear.

And she is his.

But they won't break – they won't bend to each other's wills.

Because they are both strong.

Because they both have _strength._

And it makes her happy.

.

.

.

.

Everything around her was black.

The air was hot and thick, twisting and curling around her body, making her slick and wet with sweat as she walked through the blackened hallways, seeing but being unable to see at the same time. The smell of smoke and dust wafted through her nostrils, settled bitterly on the tip of her tongue, and distantly, she realized how old the home she lived in truly was.

It was strangely quiet, she noted, and part of her wished that it wasn't. Because whenever there was silence, it reminded her of sleep. It reminded her of the sleep she needed to survive, the way she was becoming weaker and weaker. Too weak to survive. 

But for once, she was grateful.

She was grateful because she knew that without the weakness, they would see her, and they would judge.

Deep inside, she knew that it shouldn't have bothered her, they would have loved her all the same, but she was still frightened. She was frightened because she had the stink of tainted blood on her skin, burned into her senses, and it pleased her. Because as soon as everything had taken place, she had craved seeing them writhe in pain – soaking in their blood. Dying.

But it wasn't her.

Because she never wanted to bring pain.

When she was younger, she played with dolls. 

When she was younger, she had a family that loved her.

When she was younger, she was _pure._

And she was afraid of the swamps, of the alligators, and the dark. She was afraid of the spirits that roamed the house during the early hours. She was afraid of the giant mosquitoes that would bite at her skin if she stayed out past dusk in the sweltering heat, drinking lemonade and playing tag with her brother. She was afraid of the spacious rooms, each of them filled with beautiful oak furniture and brightly painted pictures and people, but always being completely empty. She was afraid of leaving her room, her sanctuary, to go down into the servants quarters by herself just to convince them to let her have an extra cookie after dinner.

But at the same time, she wasn't afraid.

Because when she snuck down into the kitchens, she would always find one of the maids waiting for her, smiling at her. They would always have one giant chocolate chip cookie sitting on the counter, a nice glass of milk sitting next to it, and they would say _'enjoy'._ And when she would run to her mother's room in the cold empty darkness, she would be given ribbons, and they would be laced throughout her dark tresses, tickling the back of her neck as her mother wove the delicate strands into tight thick braids. She would be given lotion, to help stop the itching of her mosquito bites, and she would tell her brother ghost stories at night. She would jest, telling him that she was brave enough to wander into the swamp, but she never did. And he never called her on it.

But now – now it didn't matter.

Because she was never around her family.

Because they would notice.

Because she would ache, and her scars would be milky white in the sunlight and they would ask her _'why'._

Because she didn't have an answer, and she was afraid.

She was afraid that maybe, if she had been allowed to see them, that she would crave them. That her love for them would be so completely tarnished by the darkness that flowed through her veins, and all she would be able to see was the thick blue blood flowing through their veins, crackling with their life energy. She was afraid that she would see their pulses beating beneath their darkening skin, and she didn't want to.

She didn't want to be able to feel their skin beneath her roughened fingers, or hear their high-pitched screams piercing through the air, making her enjoy their death even more. She didn't want to see the moonlight reflecting in their eyes, illuminating their fear and confusion. Their _disgust_ for her.

Her curtains were drawn as she entered her room, making it seem more ominous – darker than what she was used to. But in a way – she found it comforting. 

She found it comforting because it meant that she wouldn't have to deal with them looking; she didn't have to deal with them seeing the changes. Becoming frightened because she _had_ changed.

She didn't want them to see the many scars dancing across her body, marring her once beautiful skin. She didn't want them to see the way her eyes glowed a deep crimson whenever she got angry or upset – she didn't want them to see the way her nails grew and cut into the flesh of her prey – she didn't want them to see the way she feasted on their lifeblood – their _soul_ and walked away without a guilty conscious. She didn't want them to see any of it.

Because she knew that she was no longer as pure as innocent as she used to be.

And the thought made her hate herself – made the tears spring to her eyes once more.

Slowly, she dragged herself across her room, her wounds slowly closing – energy sizzling down her arms as her blood dripped from her fingertips. She knew that there was likely to be small splatters of blood along the hallways, blending into the thick rich blood red carpets.

Silently, she toed off her shoes, her body protesting greatly as the smoky air curled around her, burning her light pink lacerations.

The weakness of her body was weighing heavily on her mind, causing her limbs to feel numb, and eyelids to droop with sleepiness. 

But her bed seemed so far away, the darkness was weighing heavily on her mind, and she could feel the wind nipping at her skin. Teasing her. Whispering in her ear. And it caused the hair on the back of her neck to stand on end; it caused her fists to clench and her blood to boil.

She could feel the thin, smooth skin scrap across hers, the hot breath against her neck and the cool feel of sweat against the side of her face.

And she could feel the warmth radiating from the body in front of her, hugging her, begging for some sort of forgiveness.

_Kagome._

She was angry, but her blood was hot, and her eyes slanted, filled with frosted rage.

"Why?" Kagome asked quietly, staring into apologetic chocolate eyes, wishing that she could be anywhere but in the comfort of her darkened room, "Why do you continue to do this to me?"

"Because," her Mirror responded, pulling away from the seedling quickly, "you _owe_ me."

"I never did anything to you," Kagome replied as she walked over to her bed, pushing back the long velvet curtains, "so why?"

She could feel her Mirror watching her curiously, almost angrily as she dismissed her, pulling down her bed sheets, ready to try and regain some strength. 

"Not everything has to have a reason," she responded easily, fingering the long dark tresses that spilled down her shoulders, "not everything needs to make sense. It just is."

Kagome paused, turning to look at her Mirror, her eyes glittering with scorn. With hate. 

Because she did.

She hated her Mirror more than anything. She hated her for hurting her, for making her lose everything that she had with her family. For making her forget about everything that was important besides her own health and for making her _sleep._

"He was trying to help me," Kagome responded, her knuckles turning white as she gripped her bed sheets, "he was trying to make me strong again."

Her Mirror merely smiled, her eyes dark and haunted.

"No," and her voice was cold like ice, stabbing through the shattered barriers that were slowly, but steadily, being rebuilt around the pit of Kagome's being. "You were trying to get rid of me. You were seeking the help the person you hated most in the world, to get rid of the one that you love."

"_Loved,_" the Seedling replied coolly, her legs feeling weak and her fingers numb, "you were my best friend before it happened. And we used to play together during the summer when it was hot, and you were always trying to tempt me into going into the swamps. You were always there, watching as I played tag with my brother on the patio, wishing that you could at least be like _us_. Just so you could know what it was like to really hug someone. To really cry, and to _feel._ But you _can't._ And that's why you want me weak."

Kagome turned towards her Mirror, her rage flowing through her veins, causing her skin to close and her scars to look oddly bright in the darkened room. Her Mirror watched her for a moment, bitter resentment flowing through her body, curling in the pit of her stomach, before lancing through her body. It was almost as if a blade had been placed against her skin, pushing roughly, yet gently at the same time and she hated it. 

Because she knew that Kagome was right.

And it poisoned her mind and made her _angry._

And the words were echoing throughout her mind, causing her to feel hollow. Detached. Making her want to hate.

"Yes," the Mirror replied, stepping towards Kagome, her eyes dark and her expression grim, "I want you weak. I want you _dead_. Because then I can get more strength, and then we really can play tag on the patio and everything will be like it really was _supposed_ to be_._"

"You want to be human," Kagome responded, her eyes dead and haunted. 

Her Mirror looked at her, thankful that she had been able to listen. Glad that, for once, she understood what it meant. That she understood what it felt like to stuck in the cold icy void of solitude, emptiness chilling her bones and making her bitter. She was glad that for once, Kagome was able to wear that same deadened look on her face – she was glad that she was able to see her own feelings of emptiness bleeding from every pore of her body.

"Yes," her Mirror replied, and she was wistful.

Kagome walked towards her, sorrow causing her heart to clench and her throat to ache. She could feel the warmth of her Mirror against her, her body stiff as Kagome wrapped her arms around her, tears flowing down her cheeks, causing her pain.

"You can't be human if you were never alive," Kagome whispered, resting her head against her Mirror's shoulder.

But then she could hear his words, resonating throughout her mind, and for a moment, Kagome was angered by the silent mockery that were causing her bones to ache and her muscles to tighten.

_Break her._

And her skin was becoming hot – feverish as she pulled away from her Mirror, shock and dismay written across her face.

_Wound her._

It was dancing across her skin, the blue flames of hatred consuming her, leaving blisters and sores on her beautiful ivory skin. Skin that was littered with small thin scars, which made her wistful and sad.

_Make her bleed._

And suddenly, she could feel her Mirror's fingers touching the tip of her fingers to her forehead, freezing her skin, making it feel as though she were burning. But her blood was becoming cold and she was becoming weak, and a scream ripped through her throat, loud and piercing and _blood curdling._

And yet…

Kagome could feel the wind, nestling around her, attempting to protect her as her soul slowly shattered, attempting to trap her within the icy void of solitude and emptiness. Trying to show her what it really meant to be broken and dead. 

And Kagome could see shadows, dancing across the room, her vision bleeding, turning gray as shocks of white blinded her, burning her skin.

She was cold, and it was dark, and as the wind became fiercer and harsher, brushing against her skin in a tantalizing, almost seductive manner, she could still hear herself screaming. She could still feel herself writhing as the shocks of pain rocketed throughout her body, and she could still see her Mirror staring back at her, a mixture of shock, anger, and pleasure reflected in her eyes.

She could see the shadows as they danced. She could feel the wind as it seduced her, and there were feathers that were stained black.

The darkness had never seemed so overwhelming.

.

.

.

.

.

There were yellow ribbons in her hair, and she loved them. She loved the way the sun reflected off of them, making them shimmer a bright golden color, before melting into the bright yellow hue of her sundress. There were white frills at the hem of her dress, and she loved it. The bright yellow brought out the darkness of her smoky blue eyes, big and round, but most of all innocent. Her sandals were small and white, crisscrossing against the thin flesh of her feet, revealing small, tiny toes painted bright pink. Her fingers clutched a doll apprehensively, and her nails were short and jagged, a sign that she had bitten through the hard lengths.

And there was a nervous smile on her face as she stared, uncertain and unsure of what to do next.

Because he was there, standing in front of her, his fingers gliding gently over the creamy yellow ribbon hanging from one of her braids.

He looked almost wistful, his dark eyes regarding her carefully, and she smiled, dropping her doll to the ground only to be swept into him, his arms wrapped tightly around her tiny frail body.

Only she wass not as frail as he first believed, because her fingers were digging into his flesh, and he knew that she would leave bruises.

"Kagome," he whispered, his heart aching as she clutched him, that same small smile tugging at her lips.

"I think I know you," Kagome responded, pulling away from him, and suddenly she was older, her hair cascading down her back, in beautiful long waves, and her eyes were smaller – narrower – as she looked at him, innocence no longer staining her beautiful smoky eyes, but something darker – something that he knew he should understand, but can't.

Her nails were longer, no longer jagged and bitten, but long and thick, curved beautifully. There were ribbons in her hair, but they were no longer yellow, like her dress used to be, but black, causing her dress to look blue, and her skin to look pale.

But her arms were covered in scars.

And it angered him.

Because he was able to remember when she was young and cute and _innocent_, but she wasn't anymore.

"Tell me about yourself," he said, his dark eyes shining into hers, and she smiled, tilting her head to the side. But her smile was sad and remorseful, and when she was younger, he remembered that it used to be bright, full of life. But now it was tainted with something that he was supposed to understand, but couldn't. Because he knew that he didn't know how she felt. Because he knew that if he asked, she would decline and turn away from him.

" I've grown up," Kagome said, her sorrowful smile fading into nothingness.

"Yes," he replied, brushing his fingers across her beautiful ivory skin, "but not enough."

And he pulled her towards him, hugging her once again, holding her matured body flat against his, hoping against hope that she wouldn't be as tarnished as he thought she was. That she wouldn't look at him, her smoky eyes so completely dead and broken. Her arms circled around his waist, holding him to her tightly, as though afraid to let go of the achingly tender moment, afraid to feel the fading embers of sincerity slipping through her fingers.

"I understand," Kagome replied, tilting her head up to meet his dark and guarded gaze, her eyes brightening for the first time since he saw her. And then Kagome pulled away, smiling gently as a small white feather flitted around them, landing near their sneaker clad feet. 

He could feel the embers burning, turning his brightened world into black, spilling fresh thick ink into his open wounds, and for a brief moment, he thought about giving into his pain, but ignored it. 

"Will you tell me about yourself?" He asked instead, watching stoically as she turned away from him, the shift in her stance crushing fresh grass beneath her feet.

"I'm growing up," she said, looking back at him, her face void of emotion, "but not fast enough. Never fast enough."

"Do you want to?" He asked, moving to stand next to her, ignoring the questioning look she sent his way.

"Yes," and for a second, she sounded slightly breathless, but he knew that the only way to get her to talk was to be silent, to persuade her with acting indifferent, as though he didn't care. "But I can't."

"And why is that?"

"Because," Kagome responded, wrapping her small slender fingers around his, "time never changes."

He smiled then; watching as another white feather fell in front of them, and he noticed the tip was tinted black, for which he was grateful.

"They aren't there anymore," he replied, and he could tell that Kagome knew what he was talking about. But she simply drew her hand away, her expression guarded and closed, her eyes narrowed as she stared out the long expanse of the darkening sky, lightly dotted with white wispy clouds.

"Who?" Kagome asked curiously, turning towards him after a long moment of silence, wondering at what he was talking about, but knowing that the truth was resonating with her heart, causing a deep, frigid ache to erupt within her.

"Your family," he said quietly, watching her carefully, his violet eyes glimmering with something akin to sorrow.

"No," Kagome said quietly, tugging on the black ribbons in her hair, a small wistful smile curling her lips upwards. "They're gone, but I can't hold onto them forever. I can't pretend that they are there when they really aren't."

He stiffened, frowning slightly as she walked towards him, the black ribbon clutched in her hands, looking dark against her light milky skin. He could remember that she used to be tanned, that her skin was a beautiful olive color from running around in the sun, and that her hair was so black that it looked blue. But that was when she was younger. 

Now – now her hair looked plain, boring as it flowed around her, almost as though it had lost whatever beautifully colored life it had within it. Distantly, he knew that it was only because she had given up, that she had forgotten what it meant to live. And she _had_. 

"I see blood," Kagome whispered quietly, as her thin, slender fingers wrapped the black silk ribbons around his wrist. 

Her breath hitched as she felt the same electric shock rocketing through her body, and the embers around them grew brighter, warming the cooling air around them. "I see it. I smell it, and I dream about it. It hurts, you know. Knowing that there is a way out of it, but no one is willing to help."

Kagome looked at him, tears staining her eyes, but he was bewildered. 

Because he hadn't heard her start to cry. Because he hadn't been able to sense the distress rolling off of her in waves. 

Part of him wanted to reach out and wrap his fingers around her neck, to feel her skin burning against his, but he knew better than to do so. Because in that moment, he knew that she hated him more than anything.

"Perhaps," he started, pulling his arm away from hers, watching disinterestedly as the ribbon hung from his wrist half done, "it simply has everything to do with the fact that you do not seek the help you need. Merely hiding in isolation will not help your case in the least."

"The feathers are black," Kagome said, watching him angrily, her hands clenched into fists at her side, "in my dreams, they are always black. And its always when I'm with you. They start out white, but slowly they turn to black, and I can't help but wonder if the same will happen to me. I don't want to crave blood anymore. I don't want that darkness slowly spreading through my heart until there is nothing left but that inane craving. I don't want to see their blood staining my hands. I don't want to see my blood staining _her_ hands."

"Kagome," he started, watching her with a hardened gaze, trying his best not to feel but giving up miserably, " It is all I can give you. I can't give you anything more."

Kagome was silent for a moment her smoky eyes turning and haunted as she watched the quickly fading sun, an unknown emotion running through her body, telling her that it was true, but that it wasn't right.

It never had to _be_ right.

But she wanted more, and inwardly, she knew that he found her selfish. It didn't bother her, though, because she knew that he was selfish as well, and all he wanted to do was feel her skin hot and flushed against his, salty sweat sliding in between their bodies as he lost himself inside of her, stealing her innocence once more. Attempting to make him his.

"No," she said quietly, grabbing the end of the beautiful velvet ribbon, her skin looking even milkier – paler – as it contrasted with the dark hues of the thin fabric. "It's not that you can't," and he hated how she sounded so sure of herself, and yet managed to have that same light air to her voice. For a moment, he wished that she would just cry again, because she was beautiful when she cried, and he loved it. "It's just that you _won't_."

His skin was hot and feverish, and the ribbon was floating away in the wind, black and dark, and when he turned to her, she was young again, her yellow ribbons bright and golden.

He could feel her innocent eyes on him, watching him in fascination similar to horror. 

"Tell me about yourself," he said quietly, sitting down on the grass beneath him, watching out of the corner of his eyes as she clutched her doll tightly to her chest, looking confused and disgruntled at the same time.

"I think I know you," Kagome whispered, dropping her doll to the ground before taking the couple of steps towards him, her small hands wrapping around his wrist. At first, all he was able to feel was the embers within him growing stronger, burning heavier as he wished for the ache of her absence to leave him. Because when she was tainted, he could have her, and he wanted nothing more than to pull her into his arms and feel his lips against hers, burning into his flesh – stinging him as she fisted her fingers in his dark hair, calling out his name. Curling up as she gave herself to him, her smoky eyes tainted with blue and black. 

But then, the strange warmth was replaced with a sharp lancing pain, and he turned to her, her name nothing but a silent puff of breath on his lips, and she was older again, and her hair is dull and she is _tainted_. And her fingers were digging into the deep wound on his wrist, her nose wrinkled as the energy sparked violently, causing the embers around them to fade into nothingness, just like the sun.

And slowly, Kagome pulled away her fingers, looking at her blood stained nails curiously.

"You told me to you something about myself," Kagome replied, looking at him long and hard, before placing one bloodied finger against her lips, sucking on the tip of it gently. Her face displayed no emotion, other than her darkened eyes, and she repeated the process with each finger, licking his blood away, cleansing herself once more. "I'm _raw_."

She knew that he understood as his fingers wrapped around the back of her neck, pulling her close. Her breath was hot against his cheek, and the pain was still lancing throughout his body as his energy sparked fiercely between them.

"There's nothing to know," he said, his lips brushing against hers, hot and electric, causing her to seek the warmth of his body by shifting closer. "Because you are just like the rest of them."

He could sense Kagome getting angry, getting ready to pull away from him, but he placed his bloodied fingers against her cheek, and suddenly, she was calm and staring at him with an expectant gaze, waiting for something else to happen. For something else to be said. "Because just like them, you have nothing left to live for."

And his lips burned against hers, hot and molten as their mouths molded together, the electricity between them growing sharper and more painful as their skin remained in contact. But he loved the feel of her against him, straddling his lap. Her fingers curled in his short dark hair, pulling at the band around his ponytail, wanting to see his hair framing his face – to see him in a way that no one else had been able to.

But he had pulled away, turning to look at the blue moon, as it faded away behind a curtain of dark clouds, melting into everything around him. Making him feel the chilly winds whipping around him, and the warmth was dissipating. 

When he turned towards her, wanting to wrap his arms around her once more, to make it last, she was young again, and her eyes were watching him, oddly bright as her yellow ribbons slowly turned to black, and her sundress whipped around her, her doll at her feet.

"Tell me about yourself," he said softly, hating the way she took a step towards him, a small smile on her face.

"I think I know you," Kagome answered, her voice young and childish as she placed a small hand against his cheek, wiping away the tears he didn't know he shed, " and I love you."

But it wasn't true.

Because the image of her had shattered, and once again he could hear her screaming. And he reached towards her, wanting to comfort her, wanting to make sure that she was able to feel him near her, but when he reached her, she was covered in blood, darkness settling around her.

His shadows danced violently, jerking around him, almost blinding him, but as he knelt down next to her, she was still young and the darkness was settling around her.

And her brother was next to her, his eyes dull and glassy, and he realized that she was _twelve._

Broken.

She was broken, and there was nothing he could do to change that.

"She doesn't want you," said a cold dark voice, however, he didn't care. But his throat was thick with bile, and he wanted nothing more than to feel her eyes on him again, smiling, wanting to touch her lips to his, and he wanted to feel himself inside of her once more.

But she was broken.

And it would be a long time until she was grown enough to do so.

But never grown enough.

Time was endless.

And when it came to her, it was always frozen.

.

.

.

.

.

The stars are glimmering brightly, and she looks at them as she smiles.

She thinks they are beautiful, and she knows that her heart is calm.

In that moment, she wishes for nothing more than to feel her happiness, but she knows that it is nonexistent.

Part of her wants to kiss the blue moon, but she knows that it is useless.

Because she is broken, and no one will help.

Because they look at her and smile, and she is anxious.

She is anxious because she can feel the darkness as it crowds around her, and she wants nothing more than to be in the safety of his arms.

And she can feel his lips as he kisses her temple, but when she turns, it is not him, and she is angry.

But she knows that he will come, and when she does she will be protected.

She has fears, but for now she is weak.

And for once, she faces them, and she knows that eventually he will come to help her. 

She knows this because if he doesn't, then she can never be his, and she knows that he wants that more than anything.

The darkness is hot and cold at the same time, but she doesn't mind.

She doesn't mind because it is holding her soul together with it hatred and she knows what hatred is.

She knows what hatred is because she feels it everyday when he comes, and she feels it when he leaves.

And when he leaves, the wind rustles behind him, leaving her cold and empty.

_'Tell me about yourself,'_ the darkness whispers, and she turns to it, falling into its burning crimson eyes and its icy touch.

_'I think I know you,'_ she replies, and suddenly, she is broken, her throat tight with pain as she screams.

_'I don't believe you do,'_ the darkness whispers, and it laughs at her misfortune, _' but I know you. And I want to see you bleed.'_

And she does.

But for once, instead of feeling hatred, she feels an overwhelming sadness.

She never wants to bleed.

But she gives into the darkness willingly.

After all, it is always ready to numb her pain.

And for once, the emptiness is comforting.


	4. IV: Part Fourth

**A/N:** I should be writing my English essay, I really should. But I was talking to Crimson Demon **[user id: **395748**]** on yahoo, and she told me to write an M/K story, so I decided to get writing on this. So you should _thank_ Crimson for telling me to do so, otherwise, I would have stuck to writing that strange, completely twisted Sesshoumaru/Naraku story that sorta just jumped out of thin air… so yes, thank her. And give her kisses.

**Disclaimer: **The characters of Inuyasha belong to Rumiko Takahashi, and I don't own any of them. I also do not own Blackwood Farm by Anne Rice, on which this is loosely – extremely loosely – based. (The only real similarities being the whole Doppelganger deal.)

**Warnings: **Bad language, but I'm sure that no one cares about that. And… other stuff… violent stuff… _insane_ stuff… angsty stuff… whatever is written in this chapter is a warning to all of you. If you end up being catatonic, or homicidal… it ain't my fault.

**Etcetera: **I'm skipping the present tense dream in the beginning and the end, but this also has more _words_ than the last chapter, so I'm not skimping off _too_ much. And, for the sake of the story, Souta will only be one year younger than Kagome. Thank you, and have a nice read.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

_"You have got to be kidding!"_

_The sun was sinking low behind the horizon, the sky a beautiful mural of pinks and oranges, soft white clouds dotting the sky. The air was warm – soothing in its own right – as bugs buzzed around them, the smoky scent of the earth causing her to feel slightly lethargic, despite how energetic she truly was. Her skin was moist and slick – she had been running earlier that day, playing with her younger brother, and just enjoying what it was truly like to be a child – not having to deal with nightmares – _horribly nauseating nightmares, _her mind screamed at her – or listen to orders that truly meant nothing._

_"No," Kagome grinned, watching as her brother's jaw opened and closed repeatedly, "I'm not joking."_

_"I-I'm not going in there!" _

_Kagome only managed to grin wider, her fingers nimbly undoing the top two buttons of her pink sundress. She watched in a smug satisfaction as her brother stared at the opening of the swamp, his eyes wide – _filled with fear_, she noted somewhat dismally – waiting for her to turn around and say that it was nothing more than a big joke, that she was simply pulling his strings to get a rise out of him. But then she took a step forward, leaning against the bark of one of the large trees that surrounded the swamp, a small smile flitting across her face._

_"Oh no, don't tell me! You're scared aren't you?" Kagome teased with a quiet laugh, loving the way her brother shot her a nasty look._

_"Of course I'm not scared! I'm eleven, I would have to be nuts to be scared of something like… like…"_

_"Water?" Kagome asked slyly as Souta trailed off uncertainly._

_"Yes, water," Souta sniffed, crossing his arms over his chest, " besides, I'm only eleven. Do you know how _dangerous_ swamps could be? Especially with all of the animals and snakes and alligators and stuff… do swamps even have alligators? Because if they don't –"_

_"Do you ever see the Lights at night?" Kagome asked, as she gazed into the swamps longingly, almost wistfully as she sank down to her knees to stare at the inky darkness that was hidden beyond the trees, "I wonder if what the servants say is true. Are the Lights really there? Is it really haunted?"_

_Souta looked mildly disgruntled at the fact that he had been interrupted, but for a brief moment, it felt as though his sister wasn't even talking to him. That when she looked at him, she looked _past_ him, and to someone else. Like he wasn't even there. But then, she smiled at him, and held out her hand encouragingly. So he was there, sitting next to her, staring into the inky blackness that was hidden under the masses of trees, and vines. In the thick, smelly water that could tangle him up in weeds and drown him if he wasn't careful._

_"Mama says that it's not real," Kagome explained, looking exceedingly uncomfortable, "but then if it's not real then why…" she trailed off suddenly, turning towards her younger brother, watching him watch her through a darkened expression._

_"Dad told me that it was only real if I believed in it," Souta explained, "he said that the only reason he bought the land here was because it was peaceful and quiet. I don't think he would buy a home that was haunted."_

_"So you don't believe in it, you mean?" Kagome asked quietly, her eyes staring intently into the darkness, almost as though she expected to see Lights suddenly dancing across the darkness, blinding her and yet informing her that, yes, the swamps around her home were haunted, and that yes, everything was real. Including her nightmares… nightmares of him coming to her, asking her – _no, forcing me_, she thought angrily – to take something that she had no right to take._

_"Why?" Souta asked incredulously, "do you?"_

_"Yes. No. Not especially. I think some of it is real. Not all of it, but some of it."_

_"Mama will have a right fit if she heard you talking like that, Kagome." Souta snickered. "So you really believe that the house was built over an ancient Indian burial ground, and there are ghosts and vampires and werewolves out for our blood?"_

_Kagome whirled on him, her eyes dark, and her mood shifting dangerously._

_"I didn't say anything about werewolves and vampires, Souta. Those, I know, do not exist. But yes, I do believe that there is more than that. More than any _mortal_ like you would understand."_

_Souta looked at her for a brief moment, his brown eyes narrowing indignantly at his sister mood swings. At the way she spoke so easily of ghosts and spirits. Of living on top of the dead. He knew that once his mother heard of her outburst, that Kagome would get into trouble. He knew how strongly his mother hated hearing of such things – for whatever the reason, he truly didn't know – but he did know that if any one of the servants knew about their conversations, that they both would be punished. It wasn't so bad that their grandpa continued to encourage the thoughts, the fact that, yes, there were ghosts that lived in the very swamp, and the house was built on Indian burial grounds – however much he truly doubted it – and his mother was against the entire thing._

_"Kagome –"_

_"Don't you dare and go tell Mama, either," Kagome growled dangerously, "or I'll tell her that you were involved too."_

_And then, almost as if time had slowed down, her eyes flickered from smoky blue to crimson, and there was blood pounding loudly in his ears, his eyes wide as he watched with a horrified fascination as she leaned forward, her nails extending – growing _longer_ – and gripping onto his wrist, digging into his skin, causing him to _bleed._ And there was energy, blue and soft, but painful, crackling between them, causing him to feel weak and tired and _aching.__

_But then, time sped up again, and Kagome was staring at him with wide eyes, filled with horror and humiliation – terror that was dark and tainted, _burning_ – and it slowly slipped away from his mind as he shook slightly, one horrified thought on his mind._

_"You – you – you're one of them, aren't you?" He asked shakily._

_Kagome winced, as if she was in pain, before leaping towards him, her hands – which he had once thought to be weak, fragile – wrapping around his arms tightly, holding him in place. Fear, it was spiky and hot, as it danced around him, his eyes widening as he opened his mouth to scream, to do something to bring someone to help him… to keep her away from him. But then – _then _– tears were streaming down her face, blurring her vision, and he froze, immediately wanting to comfort his older sister… to say something to her to keep her calm, and cool, and collected._

_"Please," she whispered harshly, breathlessly, "please don't tell Mama."_

_"Kagome," Souta whimpered, pulling out of his sisters grasp, "Kagome, Kagome, Kagome."_

_"Don't," she whispered into the achingly buzzing silence, "don't say my name like that! Like you – you're condemning me to being some sort of monster! I didn't ask for this! I didn't want this!"_

_But before Souta could stop himself, the words were tumbling out of his mouth, and his body shaking with fear – with sorrow – as he watched his sister fall to her knees and whisper frantically._

_"But – but you _are._"_

_And in that instant time was frozen._

_Because her eyes were simply so dark, filled with so much animosity, anger–_ hate –_undisguised burning fury, he couldn't be help but be frozen to the spot. Because he knew what he had said was wrong. She was his sister – his sister whom loved him more than anything and would never hurt him – but it had been too late, the words had been said and the damage was done. And slowly, her eyes were turning crimson, filled with anger, and she wanted nothing more than to feel his blood sliding over her hands… to hear him scream in pain and agony._

_But her mind kept screaming no. Telling her that it she was allowing the hurt and pain overrule her common sense. That she was being unnaturally violent._

"You need to feed…"

"Feed…?"

"Kill…"

_"I… I… I am _not_ a monster," Kagome whispered dangerously, as she stood up, watching in a sadistic satisfaction as her brother backed away from her, ready to sprint – to run – because he could see the joy of the hunt dancing in her eyes –her smiling, red eyes –ready and willingly to hunt. To _enjoy_ the hunt._

_Then suddenly, the wind was howling, and pain was shooting through his body, and his side was achingly cold and _wet_, as he scrambled away from her in fear, trying his best just to get something between them._

_"I'm sorry, Souta, I'm so sorry. Please don't tell Mama. Please don't get her mad at me."_

_Souta didn't know who struck first._

* * *

Blood.

There was blood. And it was thick and hot and sticky, and he didn't know what to do. He didn't know how to get it to stop – how to get _her_ to stop bleeding, to stop writhing in pain, and screaming as though her body was on fire – as though she were in pain. Because the sound haunted him in a way that he never knew it could. It pierced through his soul, overtaking him. Making him feel weak and useless and _broken._

But no matter how he felt, she just continued to lie there, hot, sweaty – _screaming –_ as her sheets tangled around her legs, her body, keeping her bound. Restricted. Part of him knew – _understood_ – exactly what was happening. Because he couldn't forget that simple moment in time. Where it seemed frozen, daunting. Where it simply stood still and allowed shock to spill through his curtain of barriers, breaking his heart – his _mind_ – and letting him know just how much of a failure he had been.

_A failure._

Had he always been that way? Had he always let down the people that mattered most? The person that was supposed to matter the most to _him_?

He had chosen her, hadn't he? Because he saw the potential, the gift that she had, and he knew that if it was possible, he wanted _her_ to be the one leading his line. Teaching others what it meant to have the powers of Light… the power to take the lives of those undeserving. And he _had_ chosen her hadn't he? Because he needed her, he needed someone strong. He was drawn to her, just as the others had been. But he – he had protected her from them, hadn't he? He had been the one to mark her, to mark the territory of his feeding – _her swamp, it was her swamp_, he remembered painfully – as he watched her writhe, her chest heaving up and down, her lips dry and cracked and _bleeding._

Just like the rest of her.

_A failure._

Because he hadn't protected her.

Because it was supposed to work – the joining of their souls, the joining that would have truly had made her _his_ – and it hadn't worked. Laughing bitterly, he slumped down in his chair, listening as the wind and shadows danced around his prone figure lightly, as though teasing him, as though reminding him of everything that had happened. But he didn't care.

It _never_ worked.

No matter what he did, no matter how hard he had tried, she had never become his. Of course, she was his Seedling, his _apprentice_, but nothing – absolutely _nothing_ – more. Had it been because he had manipulated her into thinking he could help? That he could change what had happened and protect her? Because if so… if so…

There were so many what ifs. There were always so many dancing around in his mind, making him feel so indecisive and angry. Making him doubt his power, his essence, whenever it came to her.

_"I hate you!"_

_But does she really, _he asked himself, hoping against hope that, no, she never meant it, that she was just confused and hurting. That she was trying to find a way to express her feelings – emotions that had been trapped within her own protective barriers for too long. Barriers which were now crumbling, which were now being broken.

Barriers that he couldn't _fix._

A failure.

Was he always going to fail her? Was he always going to hurt her the way that he did before? The way he did when she was ten – the day he had first laid eyes on her, and tasted the sweet scent of innocence dancing around her. Or when she was eleven, and had watched her as she walked around town with her family, hoping – just _hoping_ – that he would be the first one to taste her innocence. To know that she had been his. And then, he had bumped into her, he remembered. He remembered her walking straight into him, looking up at him with those beautiful smoky blue eyes and smiling. _Apologizing._ But then he had told her. He had told her that he wanted her, and that her Light was beautiful. And she had looked at him strangely, confused, as though he were speaking about something that she didn't understand. And he said that he would make her _his_, and he did.

When she was twelve.

That was when he had hurt her the most. That was when he had lost her completely. And then…

And _then…_

She whimpered, her long slender fingers gripping the sheets around her tightly, her mouth opening slightly as perspiration rolled down the side of her face, making her look oddly pale. White.

_Lifeless._

He hadn't protected her from her Mirror like he was supposed to.

He had been selfish, he had tried to make her his. He had _tried_ and he had _failed._

Because her Mirror – her Mirror had saw it for what it was. Because, despite everything, his Seedling – _Kagome_ – was still young and naïve, and trusted too easily.

Even those that she hated. Those that had brought her pain.

"Inuyasha."

He looked up then, frowning slightly at the other two people in the room, wondering why they were there. Why they weren't letting him watch over his charge. The person he cared most for.

"What the fuck do you want Sango?" Inuyasha asked gruffly, feeling tired – _oh so tired_ – as he listened to his Seedling let out a sharp cry of pain. Watching as more blood spilled from her slowly closing wounds.

Bleeding.

She was bleeding because of him. Hurting because of him.

_A failure._ He was nothing more than a _failure._

"It's your fault," she said quietly, watching as his golden eyes darkened angrily, frosting over with fury. "It's your fault that she's like this."

"I – you – _keh_ – fuck! I _know!_ I fucking _know_ all right!" Inuyasha growled with unsuppressed rage, the claws on his fingers lengthening slightly, his silver hair shaking gently behind him as the shadows danced around his figure. Forcing him to calm down. Trying to make him _weak._

"I know that you know," Sango said, turning towards her comrade and arching and eyebrow, almost as though asking permission to keep speaking, "I know, but it's your fault that it hurts so much. She was so _young_ -"

"Stop telling me shit I already know about, _Sango,_" Inuyasha whispered dangerously, as though ready to attack. "Remember, you are nothing more than a witch, a _mortal_, and if you piss me off enough, I won't hesitate to _kill_ you."

Sango smirked slightly, nodding as though it wasn't news to her before turning towards her partner once again, watching him as he watched Inuyasha intently.

"We did not come here to badger you Inuyasha," he said calmly, soothingly, "and you know just as well as I do that she is _yours_. However –"

"_No_," Inuyasha said, shaking his head angrily, trying to dispel the truth," Don't say, don't fucking _say it._"

"How old was she Inuyasha?" he asked, ignoring the fact that he was interrupted, "how old was she when you tainted the innocence that was her soul? Took the purity away from her and caused her to hurt those she loved the most."

"_Fuck you_," he snapped, clenching his hands into fists. He didn't need to hear it. He didn't need to be reminded of it. Because every single time he looked at her, he was always reminded that she was so young, so innocent, and she never had the chance to make a choice. She never had the chance to decide that she wanted to be human. _Mortal._

Because it had been so long ago, so many _years_ ago, but for her…

For her it was like yesterday.

"How old was she _Inuyasha?_" He asked, his voice deadly and quiet like venom.

"I don't –"

"How. Old. Was. She?"

"_Twelve. Twelve._ She was fucking _twelve-years-old!_ And that's when I made her mine! That's when I chose her. I fucking _chose_ her!" Inuyasha yelled, his eyes burning red with rage – anger, hate, _regret_ – because for her it was like yesterday. Because for her, everything was in black and white, and for her, she wasn't wanted anymore. And she didn't understand. She didn't understand what it truly meant to be _her_, the woman – no, Shadow – that was supposed to belong to him. Only, she didn't.

_And she never will_, part of him screamed out in pain and agony. Hurt. Because it was simply so bitter to admit that to himself. Especially after all that he had done. All that he had tried to do to make her understand how much she truly meant to him. But she had asked him, she demanded of him to leave her be. To give her space. Time to heal.

But that hadn't been the reason. It never was the reason.

He knew, as painful as it was to admit it, that her _Mirror_ had been the one to suggest it. She had been the one to ask her to tell him – to demand of him – to leave her be. That she could hunt on her own. That she didn't need him around. That she didn't want to be around someone who had caused her to spill the blood of those who did not deserve it.

And Wind – Wind _knew_ that.

And he thrived on it.

"Loss, especially the loss of those you love most, is always painful," Wind explained uncaringly, "It will hurt, as loss usually does, but only for a little while."

Inuyasha nodded solemnly, achingly, as thoughts raced across his mind. Painful thoughts. Agonizing thoughts.

Why was he losing her? What did he do to deserve this?

_I failed,_ he thought angrily, indignantly, as Wind sat on the edge of Kagome's bed and pressed a delicate hand to her forehead, _but what if? What if I hadn't? What if I hadn't taken her and filled her with so much… so much anger?_

"Then someone else would have," Wind answered, watching Inuyasha intently.

"Wind –" Inuyasha started, freezing as the dark-haired man held up a hand, his blue eyes twinkling.

"Inuyasha, not all people have the strength that you do. Please remember that. Kagome is special – different, if you will. And despite you being one of the strongest Shadows in existence, " Wind paused for a moment, the cocky, unsaid phrase of '_apart from me'_ hanging in the air, before glancing towards Kagome once more, " you are not strong enough."

"Are you?" Inuyasha, and Wind gave him an odd glance.

"I'm afraid I don't understand what you mean," Wind said airily, giving Sango a significant glance.

"I think you do, _Miro-_"

Sango cleared her throat purposely, her arms crossed over her chest.

"_Fine,"_ Inuyasha grumbled, giving Sango a sharp glare, "do you think you're strong enough? To protect her? To care for her? To love –"

"Inuyasha, you know as well as I do that this has nothing to do with love. You have lost her, and now she is empty… she has no source of direction. As her Mentor, you were meant to guide her and yet you did not. Because of that, she is breaking inside. Slowly, but surely, she is breaking. There is no way to protect her from that. To protect her from herself."

_From her memories._

Sango glanced between the two men, a small line forming between her brows as she frowned, understanding, but not truly understanding.

"How is she special?" Sango asked then, causing the two Shadows to look away from each other and to her.

Inuyasha scowled. Wind smiled.

"I'm afraid that is not of your concern at the moment. Please, if you will Sango, do something for me," Wind asked as he moved away from the bed, from the sobbing and bleeding Kagome to take Sango's hand in his. "If you would please, I need you to find someone for me."

Sango merely huffed in annoyance, before nodding her consent. "If you wanted me to leave," she started stiffly, "you could have just asked me."

She smiled at the amused glance that Wind sent her, before bowing her head cordially at Inuyasha. "I'll see you around."

Inuyasha snorted, rolling his eyes as smoke danced around her, swallowing her whole, before she was visible no more.

And then, silence had descended upon both of them, drowning them, stifling them – and for a moment, Inuyasha wanted nothing more than to be out of her bedroom – beyond the walls of her home, and the _memories_, all of the painful haunting memories that she always managed to cause him whenever he looked at her. Whenever he gazed into those beautiful smoky blue-grey eyes and saw all of her emotions dancing behind them.

Perhaps it was for the best, losing her the way he did. Because then perhaps – _perhaps_ – he wouldn't have to remember, and he wouldn't have to live with seeing her coated in blood every night, that weary resignation dancing across her beautiful, pale features. Her skin that was littered with tiny, almost invisible scars, scars that her Mirror – _her own fucking Mirror_, he thought with disgust – had caused. Had formed.

She had loved her Mirror hadn't she? And hadn't her Mirror loved her in return? They had meant something to each other. They were friends. Family. And now – _now_ – because of him… because of _him…_ Inuyasha chuckled bitterly, crossing his arms over his chest.

_All my fault, it was always all my fault._

"Yes," Wind murmured almost inaudibly as he gazed at Kagome as she writhed on her bed, "yes I _am._"

"Yeah," Inuyasha replied, his heart heavy and his body weak, "with her, you'll have to be."

And through the solemn icy darkness, Inuyasha missed the sorrowful, sympathetic look that Wind – his master, his Mentor, his _superior_ – sent him, begging him for forgiveness.

_

* * *

_

_"Kagome?"_

_"I do-don't," she whispered as though in agony, tears streaming down her face, burning her skin. Causing her to tremble in terror, "I don't want to remember. I didn't mean to. I didn't mean to. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. Please Mama, please forgive me."_

_But everyone was silent, including her mother, as she looked at her daughter – her young, beautiful twelve-year-old daughter – shaking in terror. Knowing what she had done and simply being sorry for it. _

_"You're _sorry?_" Her mother asked, and her voice was oddly stilted. Cold. Haunted. "You're sorry?"_

_And then she was laughing, a cold, hollow, bitter laugh, as tears started to roll down her face, as the hurt and pain started surging through her heart. It wasn't supposed to be like this. It wasn't supposed to be happening this way. But life – no matter what she wanted – was cruel and wicked, and didn't _care_ what her life was supposed to be like. What her dreams were or what she wanted. _

_"Mama… Mama, oh Mama, I'm sorry. I'm sorry, I didn't mean to, I didn't mean to. Oh, Mama, please, Mama, I didn't mean to. I didn't mean it." Kagome whispered, sinking to her knees in terror, in sorrow, and in shock._

_But her mother continued to cry, empty dry sobs, sounding bitter even through the pain. Sounding angry, disbelieving. As though she was hoping it wasn't true. As though hoping that her daughter wasn't sitting before her, covered in blood – covered in thick sticky blood that belonged to another whom she loved more dearly than anything. It simply. Wasn't. True. It couldn't be._

_It couldn't afford to be._

_"Kagome?"_

_Her voice was still cold, still bitter – as though asking for the worst, asking if she had enjoyed every minute of it. Wondering where she went wrong. How it _happened.

_"Tell me anything but the truth Kagome, please, tell me anything but the _truth._"_

_But Kagome continued to sob, and she was still covered in blood, shaking and trembling, knowing what had happened, and wanting to change it all._

_"I'm sorry, Mama, I'm so sorry, I'm so sorry."_

_And her heart was plunging, sinking in her chest, as she heard her daughter whisper those pleas, those helpless pleas that made her want to sink to her knees in front of her, to bring her into her arms although she was covering in crusting, drying blood. Blood that wasn't hers. Blood that was never supposed to have been spilled._

_"Oh God, Kagome. He was your brother. He was your brother. How could you? How could you do something like that?"_

_"I'm sorry Mama, I'm so sorry. I didn't mean it. Please don't be mad, Mama. Please don't be mad. Please, I'm so sorry Mama."_

_But Mrs. Higurashi simply looked at her daughter, horror and disgust – despair, pain, sorrow – etched into her features. Not knowing what to do. Feeling torn. Helpless. It wasn't supposed to be that way. She was supposed to have both of them, both of her beautiful, gorgeous children, each of them waiting for their father to return back home. Back from the war, and they were supposed to be happy. Happy and peaceful and none of this was supposed to happen._

_But she had seen her. She had seen Kagome sitting over her brother, screaming in pain. Terror. Shock at what had happened. And her screams were blood-curdling as it ripped through the air, slicing through her, burning her soul, and causing it to shatter. There was blood, and it was thick and red, seeping through her pink sundress, staining her beautiful white sandals, dripping from her long ebony locks. And there were tears. Tears of pain… terror, sorrow. It was all there. _

_Mrs. Higurashi could only stare in horror, hoping upon hope that she wasn't seeing her baby boy, lying there, his sweet chocolate eyes turned glassy, unseeing, as Kagome continued to scream, blood trickling from opened wounds. She had sunk to her knees, she remembered, watching as Kagome paused screaming, only for a brief moment, to lean down as kiss her brothers forehead, whispering to him, repeating one nauseating phrase over and over again. _

_'_Please, don't tell Mama. Please, oh please, don't tell Mama_.'_

_"Kagome?"_

_And her daughter snapped her gaze towards her mother; her red – _red,_ Mrs. Higurashi's mind screamed at her, _my baby's eyes aren't supposed to be red –_eyes slowing dimming to smoky blue once more. And then she had scrambled away from her brother, whimpering, crying, begging her over and over to forgive her. Telling her that she didn't mean it. But then, then a servant had come in, one she hadn't recognized with beautiful shoulder length black hair tied into a ponytail, and he looked at Souta, then to Kagome, and then to Mrs. Higurashi before smiling sympathetically and walking over to Kagome, picking her up as she whispered her mantra over and over again._

_And he turned to her, or so it seemed, and whispered harsh, accusing words at her before smiling gently at her, and helping her to stand. Helping her get her bearings._

_But the words – oh his words – they haunted her, even as she stared at her youngest daughter, weeping. Even as she went up to her room without a word, ordering her servants – her handsome servant with the short black hair, to call the police, and to take care of Kagome. To keep her safe._

_Because she wasn't sure that she could anymore._

_But even as she laid down in her bed, to go to sleep, the image of her daughter – Kagome – sitting over her sons body, weeping and screaming, telling him not to tell on her, was etched in her mind. Haunting her._

_Just as the voice of the man she didn't know, whispering those same, harsh and accusing words at her. Words that she was sure she would never forget._

"Remember what happens when you taint an innocent."

* * *

_"Remember what happens when you taint an innocent…"_

They were like distant memories, etching into her mind. Burning into her soul. And she could feel them sneaking up on her. She could feel them winding throughout her body, tying themselves to her, forcing her to relive them again. Forcing her to try to remember. To try to understand.

And she wanted to. So desperately, she wanted to wrap her fingers around the strange, chilling memories and understand what they had meant to her. Understand why they were dancing around her mind, dancing around the darkness that was only meant for her. That was only supposed to be hers.

Because it calmed her in a way that it could calm no one else, that she knew. It made her feel something that she had never felt before, that she wanted to feel, through the simplicity of it all. That she had wanted to feel for her entire life.

_Nothing._

It made her feel nothing.

She should have been able to feel something in the darkness. Icy. Cold. Despair. Sorrow.

But she didn't.

Instead, she was merely there, feeling nothing, no pain, no sorrow, no _loss…_

A loss that she wanted to understand, that she wanted to be part of her.

_"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry. Please forgive me, Mama, I'm so sorry…"_

But she couldn't. She couldn't understand because she didn't _know_ why it was happening. She didn't know why she felt so much pain in the nothingness, stretching throughout her body, wrapping around her nerves and pinching and pulling and causing her to _ache._ Because – because distantly, she remembered seeing her Mirror, her Mirror watching her wistfully and asking her to let her live. Asking her to have mercy and give her the chance that she never had to walk around the Earth and be _seen_ by someone that wasn't her.

To be normal. To be loved.

She had been loved once hadn't she? She had been wrapped in someone's arms, feeling their warmth permeating through her skin, touching her. Kissing her. Bringing her to release. Making her his.

Yes, it had happened once. But those memories… they hadn't happened before.

They hadn't touched her the way that someone – he, the one that she craved more than_ anything_ – had. They hadn't reached inside of her, and made her promises, however empty they may have been, and made her feel loved. No. These memories, these fragments of time, had not given her anything. Had not given her answers, or made her ask questions. Instead they hurt, and they made her ache. And she wanted so badly for them to simply go away, to stop torturing her and making her feel as though she were worthless, as though she had done something wrong.

She had _never_ done anything wrong. Nothing that she could remember.

_"Kagome, Gods, oh Gods, Kagome what happened to you…?"_

The darkness was soothing. Comforting. Beautiful. And she wanted to drown in it. She wanted it to swallow her whole, and make her feel nothing, and everything at the same time. She wanted it to make her understand, understand why she was remembering things that weren't part of her… memories that weren't hers, but memories that had seemed so completely _real._ As though she had lived it once. As though she had lived _through_ it once.

Because it couldn't be true.

Because her family… her family was home, sleeping in their beds while she was out at night. Hunting. Being taught how to hunt. Being taught how to _survive_ by her Mentor. The man whom she remembered had the long, silky white hair and the beautiful amber eyes. The one that she had thought she liked, whom she thought she _could_ like, but had betrayed her and caused her pain.

She was only _twelve._

And she trusted too easily.

And yet…

_"Why? He was your brother, how could you? How could you…?"_

They were too cold. Too harsh. She wanted to be separated from them, she didn't want to have to live through them. To see the false memories. The false darkness that had trapped her and made her believe. Because – because it was just too _painful._ And it couldn't – it simply _couldn't_ – be true.

She had loved them hadn't she?

She had loved her family with all of her heart, despite being so young, and she had needed them more than anything. She needed to feel their warmth, and their comfort, and she needed to love them and feel their love in a way that no one else _could._

She cared for them more than anything.

More than herself.

So she couldn't…. she simply _couldn't._

_But,_ the darkness seemed to smile, curling around her and inserting more of the horrible images into her mind, _you did. You tasted your brother's blood. You drove your mother into catatonia. You caused your father to leave you both, thinking you were insane. And then – then you killed your own mother. You tasted her blood, and you loved it. You enjoyed it. You always did. You always did._

_"Kagome…"_

"No," Kagome whimpered, writhing in the darkness, trying to push it away, "no, I _never – _I would _never ever _hurt them. I love them too much. You're lying. You're lying. You're _lying!_"

_But of course,_ the darkness quivered as though excited, as though happy to be bringing her so much pain, and hurt – as though enjoying the fact that her heart was clenching in her chest painfully, her tongue swelling and her throat tightening in pain. In fear. _Of course you would think that I was lying. The truth… you never enjoyed hearing the truth, did you Kagome? You could never handle it no matter how simple it was. You were simply too weak, to _useless_ to acknowledge the truth that was dancing in front of your eyes. So why would you listen to the truth now? Why would you try to listen to _me_ when all I want for you is to know the truth?_

"Please, please stop. Please stop. I don't want to hear this. I don't need to hear, please just make it stop," Kagome whimpered, curling into a tiny ball, trying to block the voice from her mind, trying to keep herself warm in the chilling darkness. Trying to block his words…

_The truth. You continue to hide from the truth._

"No," Kagome whispered, tears streaming from her eyes, "your lies. Your lies. I can't handle your lies."

_"Kagome…"_

_What lies would those be, Child? The truth is simple, straightforward. It was always meant to hurt, to bring pain. Why won't you accept it? Why won't you grasp it? Your mother's blood, you enjoyed tasting it. You enjoyed bathing in it. She deserved it, you know, after she abandoned you like that. After she caused you so much pain… and your brother. You had apologized for it, hadn't you? You hadn't meant to hurt him, but your mother, she didn't believe you. She thought that you were nothing more than a monster. Your brother did too. As did your father. They never loved you the way you loved them. You took everything away from them – their lives, each other – and you did them a favor. Accept it, Kagome. Accept the fact that you killed them, that you bathed in their blood and that you loved it. Accept the fact that you're a monster._

"No," Kagome breathed, shaking her head furiously, "NO! I'm not – I have never been a monster! I'm not a monster! I didn't kill them! I didn't do it!"

_"Kagome…"_

"I didn't I swear I didn't!" She screamed, ignoring the frantic touches on her face, the warmth, the _heat_ that had suddenly permeated through the chilling darkness. " I DIDN'T KILL THEM!"

_"KAGOME!"_

Time froze, and the darkness melted away, and suddenly she was staring up at the canopy of her bed, her eyes wide, sweat dripping down her body as she breathed short, but hard shallow breaths. As she tried to make sense of everything. As she smelled the coppery scent of blood mixed with smoke and rain and earth.

And there were blue eyes looking into hers, smiling gently, calming her.

And only one word managed to escape her lips, as he watched her gently – intently. Because warmth was flooding through her, warmth that she never knew existed as she fell into his arms, burying her head into his chest, and sobbed uncontrollably.

_"Miroku…"_

_Please, oh please let this be more than a dream. Please, please let this be real._

* * *

Time drifted by slowly, freezing, wrapping around them both. Trying to comfort her.

She was the only one, he realized in that moment, the only one who was pure enough for time to stop for her. For time to tick by slowly, one minute stretching out to become a day, making her feel younger – _always younger_ – and keeping her innocent. Naïve. Uncertain. But allowing her to feel emotions, allowing her to feel pain.

It caused her pain, he knew. It always caused her pain whenever it slowed down, becoming endless, becoming frozen. But she would have to live with it. She would have to live with knowing that it had been so long since they'd been gone. Since they had left her _alone_ – everyone except for him, except for Inuyasha – and she had twisted time to her will. She had made time make her forget.

But she would have to remember.

Eventually, she would. Otherwise, _otherwise…_

"Kagome," he murmured, pulling away from her, forcing himself to smile, "Kagome what does she look like?"

Kagome blinked up at him, wiping away her tears, before glancing towards Inuyasha, giving him a small sad smile.

"What do you mean? I don't understand."

Miroku sighed, rubbing his hand against his brow, knowing that she _knew_, it would be preposterous for her not to know, and wondered why she made it so difficult.

"Kagome," Miroku started slowly, watching her intently, "your Mirror, what does she look like?"

"Oh. Oh! She looks, well, she looks like me of course. The word Mirror implies a reflection, doesn't it? Like a doppelganger?"

"Yeah," Inuyasha snorted from across the room, "and Wind should know that, he's not a fucking idiot."

Kagome shot Inuyasha sour look, before turning back to Miroku – _Wind? Why must the underlings always call him by that ridiculous name?_ Kagome thought incredulously – her eyebrow arched in question.

"Is there anything different about her? Or does she look exactly like you?"

Kagome started to shake her head, before freezing, her eyes going wide as though in shock – in realization.

"Well, yeah, we pretty much look the same. I think I'm a bit softer maybe, and her eyes – oh gods her eyes – they are so dark, like chocolate, and so cold. But mine, mine are blue, and hers aren't. Hers are dark, like thick puddles of melted chocolate," Kagome mused aloud, thinking about her Mirror, her reflection.

"And what's her name Kagome?"

"Her name?" Kagome asked, playing with a lose thread on her sheet, "why do you want to her name? You aren't going to kill her are you?"

Miroku laughed gently at her, curling a lock of her ebony hair around his finger affectionately.

"Of course not, Kagome. It has not been, or never will be my intention to kill her. I would simply like to talk to her. So would you please give me her name?"

Kagome seemed hesitant at first, doubting his intentions, but she knew – she simply _knew_ – that if she were to lie to him, if she were to make him angry, and she would pay. That she would be force to live without the warmth that he brought into her cold life, and knew that it would cause her more pain than she was used to. More pain than what was needed. Curling the red thread around her fingers, she sighed, glancing towards Inuyasha who was watching her with narrowed eyes. Who was daring her _not_ to tell Miroku what her Mirrors name was. Who was begging her to _disobey_ their master so that they – _he_ – could touch her. So he could discipline her.

Frowning slightly, she glared at Inuyasha, before turning towards Miroku with a serious expression on her face. She would not give Inuyasha the pleasure of touching her. Of feeling her burning hatred, but instead, the cool icy fury that surged through her body.

_'I have already Chosen…'_

She simply wouldn't do it.

"Promise me," she demanded of both Miroku and Inuyasha, "_promise_ me you won't kill her."

"I promise," Miroku answered automatically, and at once, she knew that it wasn't true.

_Just like in my dreams… always like in my dreams._

But she smiled gently, and turned away from his beautiful, yet dark icy blue eyes, hoping that he couldn't see her fear. Hoping that he wouldn't know just how much she truly cared for her Mirror.

"Kikyou," Kagome whispered," her name is Kikyou."

Time seemed frozen, wrapped around her as both Miroku and Inuyasha stood silently, watching her with darkening expressions. Watching her as though she were about to disappear. As though she were about to change and melt into the shadows around them.

"Fucking shit! _Kikyou?_ Of all the bitches… why the fuck did it have to be _Kikyou?_" Inuyasha growled angrily, before banging his head against the wall. "Fucking – _Daughter – Darkness – _Kikyou – Kagome – bitch – _keh – _must _kill."_

"Inuyasha…"

"Yeah, yeah, I _know,_" Inuyasha growled, ignoring Miroku's warning tone, "wherever there's Kikyou, Naraku ain't far behind."

"Precisely, so if you would, go and get Kagura and –"

_"Naraku?"_

Both Inuyasha and Miroku turned to Kagome, watching as her skin drained of color, as she become drenched in sweat and as time slowed down around her, stifling her, causing her chest to rise and fall as she took quick, hard and shallow breaths.

And as though time were mocking them, it sped up once again, and the darkness around them slowly shifted into day, pouring in through her windows – begging them, beckoning them to leave. To go to safety.

But it was too late.

Because time was dancing around them too quickly, because they could feel it, under their skin, causing them to grow older, to feel more pain – more _agony._

And before they could do anything to stop it, Kagome's body lurched, her eyes rolled up in her head, and she _screamed._

The room erupted in flames.


End file.
